


More invited, one to celebrate

by Congar



Series: One falls anthology [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 10:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 228,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Congar/pseuds/Congar
Summary: The first step in accepting what's happened has been taken. The first of many, but the first one is done. Back among friends, back among family. Now to continue with life, now to continue without looking back!This calls for celebration!For one special human, that saved them all. However, first it has to made sure that everyone's invited, and that everyone wants to come.But why wouldn't they want?





	1. House of fun, reluctantly

“Mister fucking Lister!”

The Golden Flower tea skims the edges of Aofil’s cup as they bend down to pick the newspaper up with a huge smile stretching over their lips. Not a drop is spilled though, their cup wouldn’t allow it. Aofil flicks the fold straight, and their smile grows even wider.

“Long time no damn see!”

Now this is how you start a morning!

Aofil ogles the list as they head through their kitchen. “Ten tips for moving into the Monster City!” shouts the list’s title with pride in overflowing galore. Mister Lister has gotten a few more gray hairs, some more slick lines to show his tenacity and dedication to his craft. 

And what a craft it is!

One of the reasons actually caught Aofil by surprise.

“Bring your own toilet!” advises reason number six. “As Monster City is still under construction, there still are homes where you can put in an order for plumbing compatible with toilets. If that isn’t the case, then bringing your own toilet will just require it to be connected instead of waiting for more deliveries. Prices may rise as more and more humans move, so making sure that you have one will give you relief when you need relief.”

Maybe Aofil should corner the market? They could very likely get either Toriel or Asgore to advertise their line. Perhaps even Frisk? Toilets approved by the Royal Family! Feel the warmth of the Delta Rune every single time you sit down. A throne approved by a butt familiar with golden thrones!

Some good slogans. Shame to have them go to waste.

Aofil almost snorts their tea as they chuckle at their own joke. The cup in their hand stabilizes in the last second, keeping all the tea inside.

The sun is quite calm this morning. Not blazing hot, not slacking off behind some cloud somewhere. Just pleasant. Aofil seats themselves in one of their sun chairs that’s resting silently on the patio fence. A whir starts underneath them.

“Don’t,” they state firmly as to keep it silent. The whir dies off with a whimper, but Aofil’s desensitized to it enough now that they pay it no mind. Would be nice if they could detach the magical gizmo so that they wouldn’t have to tell it to stop every single time, but for some weird reasons monster screws feature a different head than human ones.

The gizmo is also structurally integral, so even if Aofil had the right head they would be wrong in their own head if they were to remove it.

And programming the gizmo to be opt in instead of opt out takes quite a bit of time to program, according to Alphys, according to Undyne.

Aofil has learned by now not to use them when playing poker with the monsters. At least after they struggled out of their chair after folding a bad hand.

Which they’re sure is also a major reason as to why Undyne seems so keen not to have Alphys start with the reprogramming. 

Still to this day they keep finding new things that Alphys tinkered with inside their house. Yesterday it was the fire fork, and today was one of their books! Aofil has been trying to figure out when she did it. When she found the time to install all these magical enhancements. Be it when she moved their house to Monster City, or was it before? Maybe she has one machine that does it all for her? Aofil don’t know, and it’s annoying them, which in turn worries the stuff in their house, which in turn annoys Aofil further! They just have to catch her alone without Undyne nearby to wave it off and wink audibly.

“Why do you want to ruin the surprises you get every single morning, Aofil?” she always asks with a plastered grin that’s brimming with mischief.

And speaking of Undyne.

“Morning, Aofil!” she yells from her yard with her hand waving like she’s impersonating a windscreen wiper. Aofil waves back to her, as if cleaning away what the wiper missed. “Wanna work out after breakfast?” she asks while rolling her shoulder.

Not usual of her to actually ask. Most of the time...All the time, it’s more of a firm statement that’s been set in stone because she carved it in with a spear of hers. Normally with some anticipated laughing accompanying the grinding sound of her magic chiseling stone.

So why ask now? Does she have something planned? Well, something more planned? The curiosity is pulling at Aofil, but they have a few other things pulling the other way this morning.

A couple of loose planks and the such sit rather askew from when Aofil’s house walked over to the lot it’s currently sitting on. The lawn has just now started to set around it, and it’s already been a handful of weeks now. A very busy handful of weeks.

Not only to get through the day while being startled constantly by more and more appliances and, what would be in any other house, common household objects sprouting legs and bouncing with excitement at the prospect of being used. Each startled blurb from Aofil awoke another, so they gasped again, and so, and so on.

The drop was when Aofil would wake up with half their kitchen bouncing eagerly on their bed, with a drop of hot tea crashing against their forehead.

And then their bed would lean over worryingly when they flew out of it screaming and flailing for their life.

“It woke you right up, right?” was the explanation Undyne offered in Alphys’ stead, along with a healthy laugh. So much so that she lost her breath. 

“Sleep in the bed you made, ey Undyne?”

Is what Aofil figured out they should’ve said the day after as they showered Their loud curse and dragged out sigh summoned every pair of pink robotic legs within earshot distance. 

Which meant every single object in their house.

And also their house.

Suddenly Aofil was on the wall. The temperature gauge flicked to the coldest setting as Aofil fell on it, which didn’t really help the situation. Fortunately for Aofil, their startled “Stop!” was just as loud as their dramatic lament, and the house resettled. Not without bending a few more planks out of order. Even a few at the front of the house! 

“Don’t be alarmed by magic,” advises tip number eight. “If you’re not familiar with magic, suddenly being surrounded by it might be strange at first. Unsettling, even. However, keep in mind that magic between monsters can be as strange as magic between monsters and humans. You will get used to it, and there are programs available in Monster City to help ease you, should you feel the need.”

Aofil wonders if they should call an ambulance on the account that Mister Lister hit his head right on the nail there.

And speaking of nails, Aofil should probably look around the house to see if there exists a package after breakfast.

“Aofil! An answer?”

Oh yeah, Undyne’s still waving, albeit a bit more perplexed now. Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder towards the loose planks at the foundation of their house.

“Not today, sorry!” Aofil shouts back. “Need to fix up some planks that were ripped up.”

“I can help with that!” comes an eager answer. “I don’t have a lot on the agenda today either! Besides working out and finally finishing season three of Mew Mew with Alphee, that is!”

“Sounds like you got the day fully booked then!”

A spear fizzles out just before crossing into Aofil’s lawn. “You want my help or not?”

Why not? Aofil could use an extra pair of hands. “I’m just gonna finish my breakfast then!”

“Call me over!” Undyne shouts as she drags a bench along with some dumbbells out from her shed.

“Will do! Don’t tire yourself out though!”

“Ha!” she scoffs loudly, almost shattering the windows on her house. “As if!”

Aofil returns to their breakfast. They pick up their spoon to indulge in their bowl of cereal. The spoon whirs excitingly, and Aofil sighs with equal magnitude of tiredness.

“Bring me a normal one,” they ask of their spoon before gently tossing it through the opened kitchen window. They hold out their hand as they wait for their delivery. After some rustling from inside the kitchen, the motorized spoon brings Aofil one that won’t shake the milk out of it from its eagerness to serve.

Aofil still tests it, just to be sure. “I’m very hungry,” they say. The spoon in their hand stays still, but the one now beside them starts jumping for joy.

“The dishes, please,” Aofil wishes to the eager spoon. “Work some of that excess energy off you.”

It’s not all downsides with having an army of things that do your bidding, Aofil can admit as much. They haven’t done dishes or laundry the entire time they’ve been here! It’s even better than when Aofil would do those chores themselves. So for as much as they can sigh heavily at waking up to a kettle dropping hot tea on them in their bed, they can sigh with relief as they see their house and clothes cleaned without hassle.

Not that Aofil would let Alphys, or Undyne for that matter, know about that.

“Monsters are social creatures,” tip number nine states. “Some are still adapting to having space to stretch out their limbs, and social boundaries. It’s advisable to show how comfortable you are as early as possible, more so than with humans.”

What has happened with Mister Lister? Has he been following Aofil around, or something? He seems to have moved to Monster City as well, judging by his short bio at the bottom of the list. Whether or not he’s doing double duty for human and monster papers, producing list upon list as diligent as ever, if not more, that Aofil can only guess at. He’s definitely gotten better though, that much Aofil can give him.

Along with a round of applause for being correct for the first time, at least for Aofil. It’s nice to see him doing well for himself. Another human that’s found help in Monster City.

Aofil taps their finger for a while on the paper before folding it aside them. They didn’t really plan to remind themselves this early in the morning. It’s not a lot, but it’s like the lonely cloud in the distance. Just a small one, Aofil’s pinky finger is enough to completely block it. 

It’s there though. 

It’s because of it that it is not a cloudless day. Not enough that it should cause any worry for rain, but still does. Still makes Aofil aware that it is there, even though they’re fully aware that it won’t be pouring like the Waterfall anytime soon.

But as Aofil lift up their pinky finger to cover the white stain on the blue canvas that is the sky, they replace one fluffy white phenomena in their field of view with another fluffy white phenomena.

Aofil blows a small speck of black, something, out of their fur. Finishing off with a glancing brush.

Soft as always, happily bright as always, warm as always.

There as always.

Aofil concludes that they don’t need to groom it more at the moment. When they return their arm to scooping cereal, they think they see the cloud getting just a little bit larger.

But not in a way that would have them seek shelter. Not in a way that would have them reach for an umbrella, not even a pout because the paint they’re about to apply might drip away.

Aofil’s started on that journey now. Started walking away from all that. The first step was hard, unbelievably hard, but they’re on their way now.

They’ve no idea when they’ll reach the end, if there even is an end.

But they know that they have friends that will help them, even if they’ll never reach it.

Now that Aofil’s discovered that they’re done with their breakfast, why not wave one of them over?

“Just gonna brush my teeth and then I’ll get going on the planks!” Aofil informs Undyne with a quick shout.

“Just! One! More! Set!” she answers before hauling an irresponsibly amount of plates over her chest.

Aofil leaves her to her grunting as they head inside with their bowl. They slid it into the water filled sink where it’s taken care of by the animate spoon. Aofil then heads up the stairs into the upstairs bathroom where they make sure to take the toothbrush that won’t extend an arm to brush their tongue without them asking.

With the, only, hand powered brush in their mouth, Aofil fetches some old clothes from an adjacent room. They scour through some striped clothing, stopping short to think if they should donate them all away since they’re child sized.

To a city far away where none of the Dreemurrs have a chance to find a child wearing it is probably the safest bet. Aofil will look into that later though, it’s not a priority. The sweaters have been there for a while without any problems, so what is a little while longer?

Aofil finally spots an old and weathered long sleeved shirt that stretches over their fur. Peeling paint off skin is a chore, so getting it out of fur must be a nightmare. Some equally weathered jeans that are not really their fit are excavated as well. Quite loose, must’ve been their dad’s old pair. Dots of old and dried paint litter the trousers, so if anything Aofil is keeping up tradition with them.

Should they get some clothes for Undyne as well? Does paint stick to her scales as badly as it does skin? Better safe than sorry, Aofil concludes. Worst case scenario is her not wearing, and Aofil’s pretty sure they can live with that.

Will she wear an old shirt with the slogan “Mt. Ebott Monster Mania” though? An old Halloween souvenir. Aofil’s quite surprised that either their mom or their dad bought one, considering all that happened. The date on the shirt is a handful of years after Chara fell, so maybe they were over it enough by that time? 

It doesn’t look used though, as if only bought, and immediately discarded at the bottom of this casket of clothes.

Anyways, Undyne will have to be the judge whether or not she wants to wear it. Another pair of stained jeans as well.

With their teeth freshly cleaned, Aofil whistles down the stairs, and out their patio door. Undyne is already there, stretching while she waits.

“’Sup, Aof!” she greets with her arms bent as far over and behind her head as possible. “Enjoying the show?”

“Why don’t you take it off?”

Her head snaps forward. “What?”

“So that you don’t stain your gym clothes,” Aofil adds. They bounce the shirt and jeans in their arms. “Paint is annoying to clean off.”

“Ah!” she exhales with relief. “I though you were-”

“Yes,” Aofil confirms as they hand over Undyne’s clothes. “I phrased it like that because I wanted to see your reaction.”

Undyne chuckles. “You wish.”

It’s only after a couple of steps when Undyne notices the slogan on her shirt. The jeans Aofil brought her are a bit too long for her, and she almost immediately stumbles forwards. While bending down to roll up the excess pants over her ankles, she catches glimpse of the words on her torso.

“Monster Mania?” she reads out loud with her brow lowered. “When did you buy this, Aofil?”

“My parents did. I think it has something to do with a Halloween event. What with the pumpkin in the middle of the circle.”

Undyne bends her head around as she tries to get a better look at it. “Mt. Ebott Monster Mania!” she reads again, now with her brow extended almost as high as her head. “What was it about?”

Aofil wonders if they should let her have this one. She sounds so excited about it! Although, if she finds out…

“Don’t know,” they answer her. “Was nothing to do with you though, I’m afraid. Probably just some generic slogan for some generic Halloween event.”

“I see.”

Ouch, that stings. Her disappointed sigh of an acknowledgment cuts through Aofil like an icy gust. They know something that will cheer her up though. “Can you summon a saw with your magic? Don’t think the teeth of mine are that sharp. Haven’t sharpened them in a while.”

Undyne’s smile expose a set of very sharp teeth clenched in excitement. “Sure can!” She flexes her wrist towards Aofil, and a cyan saw is thrown to them. Aofil catches the handle, and steps out of the way as it swings like a pendulum towards their body. Once they have it under control, Aofil taps one of the teeth on the crackling saw. It pricks their finger, but not enough to draw blood.

“Nice!” they complement.

“You expected something less?” comes a reply sent with a healthy amount of snark. Like this?

The saw shrinks into a butter knife, and Undyne chuckles to herself.

“What good is all your training for if you can’t even maintain a saw with your magic, Undyne?” Aofil wonders with the knife pointing accusingly towards Undyne. “Looks like you’ve been slacking!”

Undyne folds her arms over her chest. “Is that so, human?” she asks with a challenging grin stretching across her face. “I could summon a hundred saws and not even feel it! The only reason I am not is because you,” Undyne forms a spear in her hand that she uses to tap Aofil on their chest, “couldn’t handle it. You only have two arms, human.”

“A hundred?” Aofil blurts out. They can’t believe that!

“Yup!”

So few? “Only a hundred?”

“Alright!” Undyne throws her arm out, and after a very dramatic and over the top implosion of energy that sends out a shock wave that knocks some dandruff out of Aofil’s hair, a bright blue saw with an almost uncountable amount of teeth takes root in Undyne’s hand. She spins it around her finger while clenching her other fist before her. “Show me where those planks are, human! I will make them into toothpicks.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, actually.”

Undyne drops her shoulders and she exhales an annoyed grunt with her head bent backwards. “Why, Aofil?”

“And also, the teeth on your saw are gonna slice instead of saw through the wood if they’re so many and so small.”

Undyne complies, reluctantly, and her saw changes its smile akin to hers as she walks over to the pile of planks next to Aofil’s patio. “How big?”

“I’ve already measured one up, so if you could do the others in the same length that would be great. If you do them all in one swoop I’ll be impressed.”

Undyne scoffs as she starts to pile the planks up on each other. “You’re very easily impressed, you know that?”

“Big talk coming from someone who hasn’t done what she boasts that she can do!”

A loud, violent, almost grotesque sound, emerges from Undyne putting her summoned saw at the top of the pile of planks, and forcing it through them all with one rapid swoop of her arm. A smell of smoke hits Aofil’s nose, and they turn around to see Undyne reaching her arm into the kitchen window.

“Let go!” she commands the spoon fighting desperately to keep a pot filled with foaming water inside the house. She swats the spoon away with the back of her hand, and hurries back with the half cleaned pot in her hands to the tower of planks.

“Did they catch fire?” Aofil asks while making their way around to the short end where Undyne’s squatted down at.

“Nope!” she informs quickly. No need for Aofil to see. Not at all! She deliberately takes the other way around the planks so that she accidentally bumps into Aofil with the pot.

“It smelt like burning, Undyne.”

“I wouldn’t know!” she laughs while tapping where her nose should be if she had one.

With a quick throw of their finger, Aofil indicates towards the spoon in the window staring viciously should it have eyes. “And you’ve upset my spoon.”

“Eh!” Undyne blows her lips and shakes her head at that, frankly, incredibly silly notion. “It doesn’t have emotions.”

“You keep saying that,” Aofil follows Undyne with their eyes as she dumps the pot back into the sink with a splash, “yet, I keep finding more and more reasons stating the complete opposite!”

Undyne whipping her head around knocks the spoon into the sink as well as it’s hit by her hair. “Ngahahaha! You’re kidding, right? If that’s so, then what would you reckon your house would do if I told it off?”

Undyne gives the foundation of Aofil’s house a kick. “Hey!” she yells to it while knocking hard at its wall with her fist. “Your corners look they were made out of cheap plastic!”

The intro theme to Mew Mew season one startles Alphys out of her concentration. She reaches over to answer. “Alphys here!”

She immediately recoils the phone from her ear as loud yelling and even louder creeks of wood almost blast her head off.

“Alphys,” says Aofil while trying their best at reducing the battle behind them, “Undyne angered my house, what’s the emergency shutdown that you promised to tell me yet never did?”

“...”

“I’m serious, Alphys!”

“Y-you have to follow your shut down command with ‘please, and very much thank you’ for it to shut down.”

Aofil disconnects the call.

“Shut down, please, and very much thank you!” they shout…at...their...house.

Oh god dammit…

Undyne turns around sheepishly as the house settles down into the ground. She taps her knuckle against her lip for a minute or so before finally speaking. “I’ll admit that it was partly me to blame-”

“Partly?”

“Yes...a big part,” she agrees while scratching the back of her head. “But, maybe you should’ve asked it to turn back around before saying that, Aofil?”


	2. Finally talking

A couple of reserved knocks make it through the wood of Aofil’s front...back door, and they sigh deeply as they sit on the lowest step. “Come out,” they invite the knocker.

“Hello, Aofil. Your house.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Aofil replies without turning around to meet their guest.

Another pair of legs join Aofil in swinging over the meter high drop down to the disturbed grass lawn.

“You could’ve just walked around, you know?”

“Undyne asked me to bring back your umbrella.”

“Did she now?” Now isn’t that interesting.

“I guessed as much when she asked me if I were on my way to your house when I passed hers. I wasn’t at the time, but with her being as subtle with her intentions as she is green, and with her tossing your umbrella to me, I reckoned she wanted me to get over here.”

“Thing is,” Aofil says as they lean back on the stairs, “she hasn’t borrowed an umbrella from me. Not for now, that is.”

“I see...”

“You could always say that you were curious, Frisk. No need to lie.”

Frisk sighs while averting their head. “Yeah, sorry.”

The two humans sit in silence for a minute. Taking in the warmth of the sun together.

“Undyne is the reason for this, by the way, so you weren’t that off,” Aofil informs with a quick tilt of their head. “You want something, perhaps? I’m feeling a bit thirsty. Been sitting here for a while now. It’s not as comfortable as my sun chairs, but...”

“Have you?” Frisk shifts their head back. “Why?”

“Because tip number eight,” Aofil says as they carefully stand up. “And because this feels normal to me. Which is the complete opposite of normal.” They meet Frisk’s slightly perplexed face. “So, you want anything?”

“Yeah...” stumbles out of Frisk’s mouth. “Sure, do you have some tea?”

“Golden Flower?”

“Golden Flower.”

“I have some snail pie leftovers from the latest poker game. You want a slice?”

“Yes, actually.”

It just keeps getting more interesting. “Yes?” The perplexity is siphoned from Frisk to Aofil. “You eat snails now, Frisk?”

“I can stomach them by now, yeah,” Frisk admits with some pride slinking through. Aofil notices their eyes almost opening slightly. They kinda want them to, perhaps…

“No.”

The perplexity again move faces. “What?”

Aofil shakes their head. “Nothing, sorry. Tea and pie, right?”

Frisk gives Aofil a nod. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Be back in a bit then.”

Aofil can’t help but feel a bit like a stranger in their own house as they make their way through it towards the kitchen. Some of it stemming from the awkward angle they have to walk through it to counter the more awkward angle the house is leaning on. Mostly though is the silence. No excited whirring of motors as Aofil passes nearby objects dangerously close to falling off. No clanking of porcelain, which runs a cold chill up Aofil’s spine. They might have to do their own dishes instead of their own dishes doing their own dishes!

Laundry as well! It’s been months! Aofil’s not even sure if the washing machine will even work now!

“Stove,” Aofil addresses as they enter the kitchen. “Dammit,” they realize a second after as a whole lot of nothing happens, as it would a normal house. A normal house that’s not tilting on their own axis, that is.

While walking as if their inner ear has been tinkered with by a wildly dancing doctor, Aofil guides themselves with the help of the edge of their sink. They very carefully open a cupboard door slightly ajar, and steals their old kettle before gravity can get a grip on the things lodged behind it.

They indulge themselves in some pride as they manage to open an overhead cupboard just enough to just have two packets of Golden Flower tea slip out and land in their hand. It is drained almost instantly after as Aofil misjudges the angle of the water coming out of their faucet. A cold handful of it lands on Aofil’s chest, and they flinch from the impact. The fresh stains of red paint on their shirt slip down a couple of centimeters, but they don’t loosen enough to drop down and stain the kitchen floor.

“Huh,” Aofil thinks out loud after succeeding to fill the kettle in their hand. How are they gonna keep the kettle from sliding off the stove? It’s a bit magnetic, but not strong enough to hold a full kettle. Their eyes move over to the spoon frozen with its legs wrapped around a glass. Carefully Aofil straightens out the legs of the spoon. They tap it a couple of times against the surface of the sink. The legs don’t bend, so Aofil props the spoon between the kettle and the lip of the front of the stove used to catch liquid.

They release it carefully. It looks to be holding, “Nice!” so Aofil puts the heat on. On the wrong plate. Luckily they notice, and rectify the mistake. Been a while since they turned that knob.

Now, how the hell are they gonna fetch the pie without having everything else spill out of the refrigerator?

A great question that deserves a great answer! Unfortunately, that answer is nowhere to be found. Aofil sees the suction keeping the rubber edge of the door struggling with all its might. Aofil shouldn’t even breath on it as it might be enough to have the door be flung open and its content fly out and make a very interesting omelet on the opposite wall. Something Papyrus would make if he had any interest in eggs outside of making pasta.

“You think you can manage without the pie, Frisk?” Aofil asks through the house. “The fridge is on the verge of puking so I don’t want to upset it.”

“Did you have to use those exact words?” comes a very bewildered reply. “Yes, I can manage without.”

Another great question without a great answer. Might be because of Aofil’s relation to snails that they said it that way. They can stomach a lot, but they can’t stomach saying no to Toriel offering Aofil to take some home. Snail pie though, that’s where their stomach churns like a very enthusiastic milk maiden.

It’s the first and last time Asgore gets the best of them at poker. He was pretty much busted, but he could offer some snail pie as a stand in. Aofil wouldn’t turn down that, right? They very much enjoy snail pie, isn’t that what they tell Toriel all the time?

“Bad poker face, my ass!” Aofil angrily mumbles to themselves.

And now they can’t get rid of some since it would mean getting rid of everything else in their fridge!

Did Chara like snail pie?

Oh for- 

There it is again!

Twice now Aofil has drawn parallels to Chara. First Frisk opening their eye to show no red iris like Aofil, even for just a peek. Maybe it was there, but Aofil didn’t pick up on it? Dammit, why are they still giving the thoughts the time of day?

Chara’s gone, Frisk said as much. They can talk to Aofil now, ain’t that evidence enough? They don’t get a headache from Chara reacting violently, ain’t that enough to convince Aofil?

Apparently not.

But why would Aofil care? Chara was never a part of their life. They said as much to each other. They’ve talked it out with the Dreemurrs, that chapter should be closed by now. 

Are they hoping that Chara’s still alive? Aofil feels around inside themselves. No, not really. They don’t really feel anything about it all. Could be their injury that caused them to forget, but what if they didn’t?

No! That’s done with! Leave it behind! Chara was Aofil’s twin in birth only, not in life. Aofil lived theirs, Chara lived theirs. The gods will know, Aofil and Chara are as different as night and day!

Except for all the parts where they’re the same.

Face, hair, voice, eyes, cheeks, relationship with the monsters, sorta, partly to blame for killing all the monsters, partly to be praised for saving the monsters.

Aofil looks down at their arm.

Fusing with Asriel?

Same same, but different. Chara ended in death, Aofil ended in life. That’s where the road splits, that’s where Aofil and Chara become different.

Even if their intentions were the complete opposite, Chara resulted in death, and Aofil ended in life. If the first reset is to be based on, that is. How many times have Aofil been a Boss Monster now? Twice? Again, if the first reset is to be counted. Aofil’s pretty damn sure they weren’t really an almost carbon copy of Asriel when it happened, but that’s how they experienced it, so it still counts.

And how many times are they gonna become one in the future?

Hopefully zero times. They’ve already transformed twice, and that’s twice too many..

Aofil hazards a guess that Chara would be in the other party about that. After all, distancing themselves from humanity was the entire point of them running away.

Does Frisk want to? Aofil hasn’t seen any indication of it. Although, Frisk was very touchy touchy with Aofil when they were fused with Asriel. Same thing with the fur on Aofil’s arm. Enough of a suspicion to ask Frisk about it?

Enough of a suspicion to ask Frisk about Chara?

Enough of a suspicion to-

The kettle whistles loudly, and Aofil hurries over to catch it as they see the spoon starting to glide to the side from the vibration.

Close one.

After almost dropping the cups as they come gliding out of the angled cupboard Aofil props them up on a serving tray with the spoon acting as a balance to keep it level. Carefully they fill up the cups with water and add the tea.

“Don’t have anything for you to place it on, unfortunately,” Aofil apologizes as they lower the tray down for Frisk to take a cup. “Well, I have, but it’s behind an amount of metal pots that could probably make up another Mettaton.”

“You have pink cooking vessels?” Frisk asks as they slurp the tea after almost coughing. “Why?”

Aofil throws a thumb over to the side. “Fish and lizard were so kind to stock the equipment as they moved my house. Told me they got a ticket for a parking violation. The officer had dropped it in my mailbox, apparently. On the plus side, my house has a registration plate and is allowed to travel the highway.”

Frisk tilts their head inwards the house. “Is that why there was a seat belt on one of your armchairs?”

“Yup!” Aofil answers as they sample the tea. “Regulations require that.”

“For a house?”

“Imagine how I feel if this makes you this confused, Frisk. I have to pay vehicle tax on top of everything else.”

“Wow!” Frisk can barely stop blinking. 

“Luckily Asgore has asked ML to snoop around for some sort of loophole. Maybe I can legally call it a mobile home now? Not sure, but ML has had weirder cases, Asgore informed me. As long as he hands me the documents with his tail instead of his mouth I’m all good.”

Frisk caresses their cup while staring across the yards over to the very anime looking house. “You know, Aofil?”

“Hm?” Aofil answers with their mouth covered by their tea.

“Sometimes even I’m taken by surprise by the monsters.”

Aofil nods. “Never a quiet day with them around. For better,” Aofil taps the wall with the back of their fist, “and for worse.”

“Are they gonna fix this?”

“Alphys is doing some programming according to my specifications.”

Frisk nods once. “Very loud specifications?”

“Only when Undyne’s around,” Aofil adds with a shrug. “I love them both with my entire heart, but sometimes...” Aofil blows their lips tiredly. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“They’ve gotten you hooked on some of their shows?” Frisk pries with a friendly chuckle.

“Oh yeah! That too! You try and say no to the two of them! I can handle one at a time, but both at the same time? It’s like saying no to Toriel when she flips on her mother mood.”

Frisk leans back on the gray staircase. “You tell me. Try living with her.”

“Why don’t you have some more, Aofil?” Aofil asks themselves while mimicking Toriel’s soft voice. They cough as it takes a toll on their throat, summoning a snicker from Frisk. “You’ve only had three plates, aren’t you hungry?”

“I was, Toriel,” Aofil answers themselves with their own voice, “but-”

“You didn’t like it?” Toriel again asks with Aofil’s mouth. “Was it not to your preference?”

“No, that’s why I only had three plates, Toriel! God!”

Frisk bends over in a fit of laughter. Aofil helps them endure it by taking Frisk’s cup in their free one. 

“Judging by that I’m guessing you’re spared that, Frisk.”

“No, it’s-” Frisk interrupts themselves with a snortle. “It’s not that. It reminded me of something, that’s all. Something she did with Asriel and me a couple of years after you...”

Their laugh dies off.

Aofil hands them back their cup. “I’m here now,” they feel the need to say.

“You are. Just need some time to have it set in.”

“Guess we all need to. Hopefully Undyne will calm down a bit and get used to me being around. The novelty outta wear off someday, right?”

Frisk avoids Aofil’s eyes while slurping loudly on their tea.

“No?” Aofil asks.

“No,” Frisk answer through clenched teeth. “Hasn’t happened with me yet. Don’t think it ever will. Although maybe not to the extent of your house. She’d have to answer to mom if she angled our house, and I from what I’ve reckoned with her all these years she’d rather not go toe to toe with a Boss Monster. Spar? Absolutely. Toe to toe because she almost set fire to the kitchen? No.” 

“You say that like it’s happened before,” Aofil remarks before throwing a look over their shoulder towards the pink and yellow house a few lawns up the road. “How many houses has she burned down now? I vaguely remember you writing down to me that she torched her house in the Underground as well as the first one at Mt. Ebott.”

“Just those two as much as I’m aware. Don’t know exactly how many she did before I fell down.”

“She told me you did it,” Aofil accuses lightly as they turn their head back to the child next to them. “She’s also probably gonna say that I did this to my own house in the future, so I’m not that keen to believe her a hundred percent.”

“I helped her cook,” Frisk admits with a shrug. “It was a team effort, really. Papyrus set us up with a date, and-”

“Date?” Aofil interrupts before they can think of halting themselves.

“Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, maybe Sans,” Frisk counts on their fingers. “Mettaton?”

“Was that before or after he tried to saw you in two?”

“Good question. Can’t really tell which one of the things he did that he classifies as a date. Muffet...”

Frisk moves their eyes over to Aofil.

“Mettaton set us up,” they answer before drinking some tea. “We haven’t gone on one since then, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Do you want to?”

“Haven’t given it any thought.”

“Fair enough. She asks for you when I visit though.”

Uh oh. “How do you mean?”

“Well, mainly she mutters about giving you free doughnuts. She sounds a bit upset about it. Whether she’s angry because you’ve managed to find a way to get them for free, or she’s angry because she hasn’t had a chance to give you more, that I can’t tell. You’ll have to ask her that yourself.”

“You’d like that very much, now wouldn’t you?”

Frisk tilts their head from side to side while shrugging. “I guess. If I got nothing else to do.”

“Mhm? Is that so?”

“Yes, actually.”

The two humans trade hard glances for a split second before their facades melt away into friendly chuckles. They both drink some refreshing tea in unison, and exhale the ballad of flavor into a joint cloud that hangs quietly above them.

“You still remember how to do one on your own?” Aofil asks curiously as they observe the tea cloud dispersing. “Or is that childish to you now?”

“Wouldn’t say childish,” Frisk answers as they search their mind while taking a short sip. “More like, haven’t had any reason to do it. Can’t really build a hobby around blowing clouds with your mouth.”

“Fair enough.” Aofil didn’t really expect it to be any more than that. “So what hobbies have you built then, Frisk? Asriel’s pretty good with the guitar, I’ve heard. Both heard from others, and from himself. He seems fairly interested in astronomy as well. I think I remember seeing a telescope in his room after I woke up from the Memory Box.”

“Mostly the same with me. He’s my brother, so we have the same things.” Frisk rolls their shoulder in discomfort, as I’ve they’ve struck a nerve on themselves. “Well, I say same and same.”

“No horn polish, no fur ointment?” Aofil hazards a guess.

Frisk involuntarily looks over to Aofil’s arm. They retract their eyes immediately after, but it’s enough for Aofil to notice.

Now that they have the chance to, should they really ask? Frisk seems embarrassed about it. Although, maybe they do want to talk about it, but can’t, not unless Aofil asks about it. Frisk is staring into their tea, rubbing the edges of it nervously. They tilt their head quietly from side to side, sighing loudly.

“Been a lot around monsters?” Aofil asks carefully. “Have had them around you for the majority of your life almost?”

Weak nod.

“Have you given it any thought before now?”

Frisk meets Aofil’s eye to make sure Aofil isn’t hiding any smiles. Aofil’s as serious as they can be, and Frisk returns to looking at their own reflection. “Yeah.”

Alright then. “I see.”

“Does that make me weird?” Frisk wonders, conflicted. “Humans are so much better than monsters, so why would I want to be one? Is it even possible? Would it hurt? Am I a freak for even thinking of it? What would mom and dad think if I told them? What would Asriel think?”

Frisk shifts their pleading eyes up to Aofil. “What do you think?”

“I...” Aofil let’s the letter peter out as they can’t figure out what to say really. “I don’t know. Are you seriously thinking about doing it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Frisk answers, but not satisfactory to themselves. “I guess I have to see if it’s even possible to begin with, but if I do that I’ve already chosen, because why else would I want to research it?”

Frisk sighs, heavily. So much so that they almost slip of the raised staircase. Aofil tugs at Frisk’s sweater to make them aware of it. Frisk shuffles up the stairs as another tired exhale slips out of them. “So what would you want to be if you chose?” Aofil asks, catching themselves by surprise how much they sincerely want to hear the answer. “Like your family? You think you’d be the same color?”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it...” Frisk whispers to the side.

“Oh, sorry,” Aofil says as it’s clearly a sensitive nerve for Frisk. Especially with them now grabbing their chest.

“Did it hurt for you?” Frisk asks a bit more louder.

“Do you want to drop the subject, or not, Frisk? You’re sending mixed signals here.”

Frisk again tightens their grip on the porcelain cup. “Sorry, I-” They pinch the bridge of their nose as they try and calm themselves with some deep breaths. It’s not as effective as they would want.

“Hey now,” Aofil gives a reassuring pat on Frisk’s back, “if you want to talk about then I’ll talk about it with you. I can’t say that it’s an incredible pleasant experience though, I’m afraid. I’m hazarding a guess that if you should try and do it you’d have a more safer way of doing it. I’m a bit taken back by you bringing it up, you know? It’s a big decision.”

Frisk nods.

“I’m desensitized enough that I think that it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility. It would be downgrading of a sort, right? Human soul turning into a monster soul?”

“Still no idea...”

“Hey, how about we talk about something else?” Aofil suggest. They punctuate with a final soft pat on Frisk’s back. “Why did you come here for? Just wondering about the house?”

“Well,” Frisk shakes their head, “not really. You see, it’s my birthday in a bit.”

“It is?” Aofil had no idea. “Congratula-”

“No.”

No?

“I don’t want it to happen.”

Well now...


	3. Tangentially related

“Gotta have to unpack that a bit for me there, Frisk.”

Frisk looks into their cup. A weary sigh is sent into it, causing the small puddle of tea left to climb up the porcelain walls only to slowly be dragged back down into the same puddle as it started off as.

“You want more tea?” Aofil asks as they prepare to stand up.

An audible slurp later, and a final shake to get the last drops out, Frisk shakes their head. “Nah, it’s not that. If I drink more I’m sure I’ll need to use the bathroom in a bit. I don’t want to be desperate enough to try and use your slanted toilet. No offense.”

“None taken, and fair enough. Already dreading doing that myself.” Aofil gives an acknowledging nod while letting their legs down the edge of the stairs again. “So, birthday? And you not wanting it?”

“Nope, not in the slightest. We’re having a pretty large test the day before, and I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna get any sleep that week because of those two events. The test is fine, that I can study for, but the day after, that’s the thing that’s out of my control, I feel. Not that I can tell mom or dad, or even Asriel about it. They’re the ones I suspect are planning for it. Mom and dad the most, but I’m pretty sure Asriel has a claw of his own in there somewhere. I can’t just walk up to them and have them cancel my birthday. Would be too difficult to explain.”

“Okay?” 

“It’s not that I’m dreading the day, but I don’t feel that I want it over and done with, you know? The monsters can exhaust you in ways you never thought you’d have to catch your breath on. One of those would be me having to explain why I can’t be excited for my own birthday. It’s gonna bring up more question than just ‘Why not?’ and you know what it means when more question are brought up, Aofil.”

“I’m well aware.” Aofil states with a smack on their lips. “I still think that you should at least try and talk with them. I know I’m the last person to give that advice, but I’m still gonna give it. Any reason you feel like you can’t talk with them?”

A quick and stern nod Frisk gives. “Yeah.”

What follows is silence. For a minute it’s silent as neither humans say anything. Frisk swirls their cup. Aofil sits still, narrowing their eyes more and more with each passing second. “A very serious reason, I’m guessing,” they feel the need to ask before they close their eyes completely.

“Yup,” Frisk answers with a sigh through their lips and a quick tilt of their head. A heavies sigh escapes through their teeth, so much so that they again put up their cup to refresh the dryness that the sigh created in their mouth. Aofil hands over their half empty one to replace Frisk’s completely empty one. They take it with a small nod, and dry the rim of with their striped shirt. Aofil knows that they shouldn’t feel malice from that, but they still do, just a little. Their curiosity overwhelms the petty anger though, and they don’t raise the word. Frisk lets the tea slosh around in their mouth, shifting the liquid from cheek to cheek. As they swallow it they let out a small cough. “Very.”

“Are you gonna tell me it?” Aofil asks before turning their head towards the houses up the street. “Is it about the monsters?”

“Yes,” Frisk blows their lips tiredly, “and no.” They look around for a place to place their empty cup, and Aofil offers their now empty hand as a holder.

“No is a surprise to hear,” Aofil admits while drumming on Frisk’s cup with their knuckles. It not being because of the monsters? Now that might be really serious. “Why no? Besides Undyne, Papyrus, Alphys, etc. whipping up some crazy birthday plan involving them turning into humans or something? Because then I could understand your hesitation.”

Frisk looks over the horizon in the direction of Mt. Ebott. It’s just a small silhouette, almost blending in with the treetops of the nearby forest. It’s clear for both Frisk and Aofil which one of the spiky tops is Mt. Ebott though. It’s the one that sends a smorgasbord of emotions throughout their very soul. Frisk seems to be biting into a very sour treat they picked up from said table, as their face scrunches up into a conflicted expression filled with...regret? “I think it has something to do with the orphanage,” they say into the wind that carries the words over to Aofil.

Be it the chilling gust blowing around them, or be it the words, Aofil’s brow sinks deep.

Oh...that says it all, really. Aofil taps hard on their cup while breathing through their clenched teeth. That really says it all. But...already? Already? Aofil was away for a while, yes, but so long? Yes...yes they were. But surely? “You think?” they ask with a smile, but with a reserved voice.

“I heard mom talk about it when she thought I couldn’t hear. Something about my age. To tell you the truth, Aofil, I don’t know when I was born,” Frisk admits while their hands grasp their cup tighter. “I’ve tried, but I can’t find a record. I don’t even know if Frisk is my real name. You’d think someone with my skin color would be rather easy to find a record of, but here I am, just as clueless as you are, Aofil. Not even with the strings dad can pull. I was just a number among many. Just a kid with the most tired of resting faces. Mt. Ebott’s legend sounded like something that would make me something, you know? Because before that I was...”

Frisk sighs as their head finds the tiniest comfort in their hand. “Nothing. I was nothing. Dumped at the orphanage for reasons unknown, by parents unknown. Hell, I don’t even know if it even was my parents that put me there! Who would care if I disappeared? No one! Some of the kids that fell before me were also from that orphanage, but I guess administration got the better of them and they just chalked them up to being adopted or something! Otherwise I might’ve had second thoughts, maybe. The only one suspecting foul play was the pastor, and that I figured out after the fact during the trial. And not even he could help me.”

Aofil gives Frisk a couple of seconds to collect themselves. “You have a family now, Frisk,” they feel a need to remind Frisk. “You’re a savior and you have a wonderful family and wonderful friends who all have hope for you, and who you give hope for. It’s over now, it’s in the past.”

As if Aofil has any credence to say that...

A careful nod is given by Frisk. “I know...I know. It’s that damn orphanage though. Just an awful place altogether. It tries, it tries so hard. It did all it could to give us kids somewhat of an existence, but I can’t think back on it in a bright light. However I do, how much I try to see it from different angles, try and put myself in their shoes, I just can’t. I hate that place. With all my soul, with all my heart, I hate it. I want mom and dad to burn it to the ground and I want Undyne and Papyrus to salt the ground worse than their cooking. I want to spit on it. I want to give Asriel my soul so that we can lay waste to its existence in this reality and all other possible ones.”

“Wow...” Aofil’s stunned. “If...If anything I now know where you get your energy from when exercising with Undyne. You’re not actually thinking about doing it though?”

“The hope of the Surface, the angel that stayed their hand to befriend an Underground filled with monsters that wanted them dead to use their soul to slaughter humanity wants to spit on a pile of rubble that was the place that fed them for the worst years of their life. I won’t do it, it would crush everything we’ve done. I’ll work it out on the weights though, and not on the building. If Asriel can, then so can I.”

Every single word of that. The vile poison seeping out of Frisk’s mouth as they speak that. Aofil knows that, it’s the same vicious tongue they used to talk about the monsters not so long ago. To think, Frisk, of all people...

“Not the best place for a kid?” Aofil offers to try and break the tension.

“Fuck you think I ran up the mountain for?” Frisk shoots back viciously with their forearm thrown up and their fingers bent in question.

Aofil puts up a calming hand. “Right, sorry. Didn’t mean for it to sound like that. It’s my fault, forgive me. Shouldn’t have said anything.”

Frisk mirrors Aofil’s hand. “No, I shouldn’t be angry be with you, Aofil. It’s not like it was your fault. You’re the...you’re the only human I have close to me, and I feel like with you I can talk about things that I can’t with the monsters. I shouldn’t assume that you will have all the answers though. I should’ve asked you if you were comfortable with it first, I’m sorry. Should’ve given you a warning or something.”

“It’s fine.” Aofil reaches over and places their hand on Frisk’s shoulder. It’s tense like a violin string. It relaxes a bit from Aofil comforting it though, sinking just a bit from the exhaustion of being as tense as it was.

“I’ve always wondered though. Did you,” Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder, “run past my house on your way up? It’s on the way, so I’ve always assumed that you did, but with what we just said about assuming though.”

Frisk runs their eyes up and down the house. “Yeah,” they nod. “I did. Like you said, it was on the path. I didn’t pay it no mind though, for me it was just another house.” Frisk lets out an amused scoff. “Don’t think I could’ve been more wrong.”

A small shiver is sent up Aofil’s spine. It’s not much, but it’s there. “Kinda unsettling to think back on it with everything that has happened.” they say. “What if I had looked out the window? What if I’d seen you? Although, the way I was back then, I don’t think I’d paid it no mind that a child would be sprinting past my house. It’s just that, with everything that’s happened, it’s takes on a pretty unsettling context, you know? If it were a movie the scene would’ve gone into slow motion as you ran passed it, with my silhouette in the window.”

“Played by Mettaton?”

“Well, both of us, obviously. This is a situation where the reality of the situation is worse than Mettaton reenacting it though.”

Frisk brow furrows as they contemplate it. “Yeah, I feel the same. Damn. I ran past your house on the way up to the mountain. It was the last house I passed on my way down the Underground, and it was the first one I went to after the monsters resurfaced.”

Aofil can’t help but be struck by a thought. “Isn’t that kinda, well, obvious,” they say with a light scoff.

Frisk throws one hand in the air. “Well, yeah, geometrically speaking it’s obvious, but I’m not feeling unsettled up here,” Frisk taps their skull, “but here,” and then move their finger down to their chest. They pat it. “Here’s where it feels weird to think that I was so close to your house when I ran towards Mt. Ebott. Since it wasn’t just your house, it was also...Chara’s.”

Not the first child to run past up towards the mountain in an attempt to find the legend. Realize the legend. Become the legend. Did all the kids pass it? The last house before the humans’ death, but the first house for the monsters’ life. 

Aofil’s home.

A home that’s now surrounded by monsters. Housing a human with a monster family that loves them, and who the human loves back. There were two living in that house before though. A pair of twins.

Now there’s just one remaining that can walk around inside it. What does the other one think though?

“Is it because Chara also feels it, Frisk? Are they feeling weird about it as well? Are they feeling anything?”

The question hits as hard as a train, both to Aofil for asking it, and for Frisk to answer it. The two humans turn away from each other. They need a few moments for themselves before they can begin together.

For a long while, nothing but the occasional sip from Frisk breaks the heavy silence. Heavy it is, considering the low shoulders the two humans wear. The second cup runs dry fairly quickly though, and the silence returns, just as heavy, if not more.

“They don’t,” Frisk finally speak with a quiver to their voice and with their back still facing Aofil. “Chara doesn’t feel anything any longer. It hasn’t changed since last time you asked. I would’ve noticed by now. Trust me on that one. It’s...quiet.”

Aofil nods, even though they know Frisk won’t see it. “I see. Are you planning on trying to get them back?”

Frisk turns around, Aofil can feel it. They turn as well to meet them. Frisk avoids Aofil’s eyes at first, but they manage to work up the courage to meet them. Aofil flinches back just a bit as they see what’s behind Frisk’s eyes.

A question.

A question Aofil’s not sure Frisk even wants to ask. It’s eating away at them though, and the struggle of it has Frisk’s eyes glimmer as they water. In stark contrast to their lips, who Frisk has to wet with their trembling tongue. Their mouth bends into conflicted shapes, exposing and hiding a set of teeth gritted as a last gate for the question. It’s not enough though, and it slips out. It’s barely audible, but almost deafening at the same time.

“Do you want that, Aofil?”

No answer. Is that what Aofil meant by asking? What else would they want to get out of it? Why else would Aofil ask for Frisk to bring their dead twin back?

“I...I don’t know.”

The humans avert from the other. Arms cross, cups are tapped anxiously, brows are furrowed hard to keep in check their emotions. It doesn’t help though. It doesn’t help, because there more to be said. More to be asked. It’s just as heavy as the first one though, just as difficult to form. Frisk’s tongue tenses up, only producing a strained choke. Aofil looks over to make sure they’re alright, and get a solemn nod in return. They mirror it, and move their head aside again. 

“Do you want Chara instead of me?”

Does Aofil?

“No,” Aofil speaks gently. “I don’t want them back. I guess I have to get used to their death as much as you have to, Frisk. I feel my entire being scream at me for saying that. Like I’m giving up on them, but really, how can I give up on them if I never had hope in them to begin with?”

“The monsters had hope in them,” Frisk says with one hand clutching their chest. “I wish I could return that.”

“Have you tried it yourself?”

Frisk releases their chest, “No,” and replaces their hand onto the cup. “I’ve barely been able to thing. It’s been so quiet. It’s not like Chara and I spoke before, but I always felt their presence, that they were there with me. It’s just me now, just me, myself, and I. For as long as I’ve been with the monsters I’ve had Chara with me. They’ve helped me, they’ve helped the monsters. Now I’m alone without them, and being around monsters without them feels so...wrong. Like I’m taking all the credit. Like I’m taking advantage of all their work. Taking all the credit for our joint work.”

“If anything that shows how good of a heart you got, Frisk,” Aofil remarks, giving Frisk a warm smile to reinforce it. They get a reserved one in return. “You two have done good work, Frisk, but I don’t think Chara would want you to give them any credit. Not the Chara I spoke with in that bathroom. Not the Chara that smashed the mirror when they caught a glimpse of your reflection in it, Frisk. They hated to be control over your body. In a way, I understand that, I’ve had a body that wasn’t mine before. You two were stronger together though were as me and Asriel were...”

Aofil clears their throat hard.

“Besides, that’s not what they would’ve wanted, they said so much when the two of us spoke, so that’s not what I want as well. We’re twins in that regard. The worst part though is that I know they’re dead, but I’ve done so much in proving that death isn’t really a barrier, but more as a puzzle? I know how much the monsters enjoy their puzzles.”

“Sans-”

“I know what Sans said,” Aofil interrupts. “I believe him too. I’ve no reason to doubt him, not at all, and I’m not. I just feel that when Chara and I spoke...Did you hear what we said, by the way?”

“Yeah, all of it. Although,” Frisk shuffles uncomfortably, “it was hard to comprehend. It was so dark when Chara was in control. They did their best to comfort me, to make sure that I was aware as much as possible, but...”

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

The silence returns, heavier still. Like two anvils pushing down, it has the humans bending over forwards. 

“No, I need to,” Frisk whispers. “I need to say it. Sorry that you have to hear it, Aofil. You already saw Chara struggle with handling our combined emotions. They were so afraid, so scared to lose you, so scared to lose me, so scared of losing everything. Again. All of that poured into me, but I couldn’t do anything about it. That in turn made me scared, and it came back around to Chara, and so the circle continued.”

Frisk lets out a pined sob. “Again!” Aofil hears the sound of porcelain landing in the grass below. “It was too much for me…I couldn’t…I couldn’t! I gave up...I gave away all control to Chara! I left them alone! I promised that it wouldn’t hurt them, and I left them alone! They’re gone! They’re dead! Because I wasn’t-”

“You are strong, Frisk!” Aofil steps in loud. They need to get it through to Frisk. “It’s not your fault Chara is gone. I don’t know what made them make the choice they did, but you can’t blame yourself for that. Chara wouldn’t have that from you, and you know that.”

“It’s so quiet...”

“You’ll get through this, Frisk, I promise you that.”

“I want them back...”

“I know, kiddo. Another gut punch that you have to weather and endure. You have your family and friends around you though. Cry on their shoulders, they won’t judge.”

“I know.” Frisk rubs their eyes with the flat of their hand while coughing out one last sob. “Thank you, Aofil. I needed to get some of that out of me.”

“Anytime, Frisk. My door is open. Just need to get Alphys to have it turn back around.”

The remaining tears jump out of Frisk’s eyes as a light chuckle bounces out of them. “Yeah, you need to do that.”

“You’ll get through your birthday as well, Frisk. I haven’t gotten an invitation, yet, but I’ll be there, don’t worry. As long as it’s not snail cake, I’ll be good. I think I can figure out a nice present for you until the day comes.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want,” Aofil chuckles. “I’m not that much older than you. I’m teaching monster equivalent of high school as well, I think I know what you teens are into these days.”

Frisk looks over to the side. “That’s...that’s kinda the thing.”

“I won’t embarrass you, Frisk. You have my word.”

“No, not that,” Frisk says while shaking their head. “I said before that I don’t know my age.”

“You did, yes.”

“I think mom found out though. I think she knows. Her excitement worries me. It can only be for one reason. We’ve never put a number on my birthdays, I was just one year older, that’s it. Mom’s been keeping track though, and judging by the tone she had after getting off that phone call, I think it’s finally added up for her.”

Frisk takes a deep breath. “My next birthday will be my eighteenth one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you do want to see a crazy birthday plan involving the monsters turning into humans feel free to check out [One Falls: Change Of Heart(s).](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14148621/chapters/32608548)


	4. Taking it in

“Eighteen years old?”

“Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? One day a kid, the other an adult. I mean, that’s how birthdays work, true, but it’s so abstract to think about. Go to sleep a child, wake up a fully fledged adult!”

“Wow, adulthood. Must be scary. Of all people too. I guess it was inevitable, but hearing it for the first time. Dang… You’re right, it’s damn crazy.”

“Imagine my reaction to it.”

“Yeah...I don’t really think I can. I mean… What do I mean?”

“Been wondering that myself to be honest, Tyl. What do you actually mean?”

Tylior sends over a tired stare over the table. “Some days I do also wonder what you’re on about throwing meaning left and right, Aofil. Especially since you’ve done such a complete and sudden turn about the monsters that would have any other human in a neck brace!” Tylior sighs through his lips. “But here you are, head still facing forward, telling me that you’ve been tasked by one of the Royal Heirs to find out what the King and Queen are planning for their birthday?”

“Yup,” Aofil answers with a smack of their lips.

“Their eighteenth birthday. Something that the Royals would want to have quiet.”

“Yup,” Aofil repeats with an identical smack as they read through the menu.

“And if that information were to somehow come out into the public?”

Aofil glances over from the top of the menu. “Then I’ll know that it was you that leaked it. Not that you would, right? You wouldn’t want to get on the King and Queen’s bad side, now would you? Not when you’re looking for that new apartment.”

“How did yo-”

“It’s really amazing how many times I have to mention that the King and Queen wouldn’t blink an eye to the notion of commissioning a statue of me, and yet you still doubt the things I say, Tyl,” Aofil interrupts as they put down the menu on the table with a quick flick of their wrists. “Like, worryingly so. I’m only slightly exaggerating, but only because I’m sure that they’ve thought about it at one point. If you just hearing that is enough to furrow your brow like its got an anchor on it, and it also freaking your mind out, then I’d suggest strapping in real tight since it’s even worse actually having it happen to you, Tylior.”

He waves the notion off. “Yes, yes, my now monster accepting friend. Forgive me for being a bit hesitant to you knowing things that I’ve not told you about. Not really used to the mind reading yet.”

“How else would I then help you get a bigger and better one?”

“Oh.” Tylior blinks quietly. “You did?”

“Yes, of course.” Aofil shrugs. “You’re my friend, so you get benefits.”

“Not like that,” Aofil adds to be perfectly clear.

“As if you could handle me,” Tylior chuckles. “But yeah, thanks, Aofil. I appreciate it.”

Aofil flips up the menu again. “Say nothing of it. Especially me flubbing my words like that.” 

Tylior does the same with his. “So what are you gonna do, Aof? How big a spade do you need for all this royal dirt you’re gonna dig up?”

They shrug as they lean back into the silk clad chair. “I’m gonna do what Frisk asked me to, Tyl. I’m gonna try and dig up as much as possible. Shouldn’t be too hard, I have a spade the width of a pizza spatula, or whatever those are called.”

“Which is why we’re at Muffet’s?” Tylior wonders with a perplexed hand up against the store window with a cartoon spider surrounded by various forms of pastry. A real spider lands on his hand, and he flinches after a second since he didn’t register the touch immediately. Once he lays eyes on it, well…

The spider shoots a very hard look over to Tylior with his hand awkwardly tucked against his chest as it gets control over the swinging Tylior’s flinch tossed it into. After a couple of seconds of it waiting for an apology that will never arrive, it spins on its spun string over to Aofil with a limb extended towards the menu in their hands.

“We’ll have,” Aofil starts as they quickly skim the menu one last time while their tongue bounces rhythmically against the roof of their mouth behind their front teeth, “two of the lunch offerings with some,” Aofil lowers the menu and shoots a questioning brow over to Tylior, “coffee?”

He nods as he shakes the lingering feeling of eight small feet off his hand. “Coffee works for me.”

The spider flies up into a crack in the wooden planks above the window, almost as if its string was a strand of spaghetti someone very hungrily slurped up.

And speaking of hungrily and audible slurping. Something catches the corner of Aofil’s eye from behind the counter. Just the tiniest movement, but it’s plenty enough for Aofil to sense what’s coming.

They push themselves up with a hand on the back of their chair. “Let’s switch seat, Tyl.”

“Why?” he asks yet still mirroring Aofil’s movement.

“Muffin is gonna come flying out of the front door any second now. I should be closer since it’s me he will be going for.”

“Good thinking,” Tylior agrees, but as he sits down in his new chair, a thought strikes him almost as hard as Muffin will do Aofil in a bit. His head slumps over as if hit squarely on the jaw. “Why did I agree on that?”

“You’re wondering why you’re not questioning it, are you, Tyl?” Aofil hazards a guess judging by Tylior’s blank stare. “It’s something you have to learn to live with now, I’m afraid. It gets easier if you don’t question it. Take that from me.”

“And I’m getting advice on it from the person I’ve known, until a couple of weeks ago, was the most hesitant of humans towards the monsters. It’s double stacked against me, Aofil, so you’re probably gonna need some patience with me on this.”

“I’ll enjoy seeing you question reality while it last then. Have I told you that once I was dressed up as that one character from Mew Mew season one with the tiara? Note that I didn’t say that I myself dressed up, I was by another monster that could speak my voice.”

Tylior’s head disappears into his hands. “Why, Aofil?” he sighs into his palms. “Why say these things to me? God dammit, they’re not even the same sex as you!”

“The monster knew some magic.”

“Stop!” Tylior shouts into his hands. “You’ve already made me confess that I watch that show. Have pity where none is deserved.”

“Oh yeah,” Aofil laughs as their face lights up bright. “I just did. You pathetic man.”

“But not only that,” a piece of Tylior’s face emerges from behind his fingers, “you’re also telling me that you were crossdressed?”

“It fooled me, even,” Aofil admits, but not out of shame. “That’s how good it was. Mettaton did it when I first appeared on his show.”

Tylior’s hands slid down onto the table, leaving his poor neck and shoulders to carry the weight of his heavy head scrunched into a narrowed and perplexed expression. “First appearance? You mean you’ve been on it more tha- You know what? Whatever. I’m just gonna stop asking questions. It’s better for my sanity. So I’m just gonna ignore whatever comes out of your mouth from now on while we’re still on this subject.”

“I did tell you when Undyne and Alphys showered together in my house, right?” Aofil asks with feigned curiosity.

Tylior sits with his leg crossed over his other, and with his clamped hands resting together on his knee. Aofil sees the combined fist tighten though, and they chuckle.

“Not as worse as when they downloaded that adult-”

The door behind Aofil crashes open, and they turn around even though they know fully what it was that came out of it. A slobbering mouth foaming with enough saliva to fill a swimming pool shakes with pure excitement. The saliva is sloshed around by a tongue whipping from side to side, throwing the spit around like a garden hose without a wielder. A pair of glistening eyes widened until their absolute limit stare back at Aofil, unblinking, and with complete focus.

Aofil turns back around while nodding carefully. “Just sit still, Tyl,” they advise their friend.

“Sure,” he answers, keeping his eyes looking at the horizon.

Aofil exhales. “Hi, Muffin,” they greet while smiling to the large spider thundering towards them. It overshoots its speed, and scrambles back desperately just a few inches from Tylior. He stares at it, ready to jump away at the smallest indication that it has seen him.

Aofil extends a hand that they have to retract almost immediately as Muffin snaps at it. “No!” Aofil huffs. “What did Muffet say?”

Muffin’s mouth turns into a bitter scowl, and a small waterfall of saliva pours out of its hanging lower jaw. Aofil again extends their hand, keeping a close watch on the hungry eyes following it onto Muffin’s back. Aofil scratches the rough skin with the edge of their fingernails. “There we go! See what happens when you don’t try and bite my damn hand off, you nightmare of a creature,” they say with the same voice they would a puppy, but to an overgrown spider with vicious fangs and a questionable understanding of speech. “You get scratches! Even though I’m not sure that your rock hard skin even feel it. I sure do! Feels like I’m patting one of those small pillows you keep your needles in, but with the sharp points sticking out!”

Once Aofil’s scratching reaches just behind the temple of Muffin, he collapses while shivering. “Oh!” Aofil smiles. “Gotta remember that spot for later.”

Muffin sighs with pleasure, the sound not being too far off a snore of someone with sinuses filled to the point of exploding. Like an old two stroke engine coughing its last breath.

Aofil points to the blubbering spider with its tongue hanging out while cocking their head over to Tylior. “You want to-”

“No,” Tylior makes very clear with just the tone of his voice without moving a muscle except his tongue. Absolutely not!

Aofil shrugs. “Your loss.”

“Stop lying.”

Aofil gives Muffin a final hard pat on its drooling cheek before sending him back inside the shop with a gentle push with the heel of their shoe. Tylior relaxes his shoulders as the large spider nears the door. Seeing that, Aofil turns around and whistles.

“Don’t!” Tylior curses at Aofil. “Dammit, Aof!”

Aofil lets out a light chuckle, it coming out as a small series of small whistles as they still have their mouth rounded. They refill their water, and offers to top off Tylior’s glass. He holds it out while looking around Aofil’s shoulder to make sure the spider is no longer outside.

“But speaking of spiders that seem to have a keen interest in you,” he says after he’s convinced himself that Muffin is gone for now.

“Subtle,” Aofil comments before drinking.

“You absolutely sure there isn’t anything between you and Muffet?” Tylior asks even less subtly. He tilts his head towards the counter inside. Muffet turns her head quickly around as Aofil follows Tylior’s movement. “See!” Tylior exclaims. “She’s all over you with all of her six arms. You’re just gonna ignore that?”

“What makes you so sure that I’m into monsters?” Aofil shoots back with one eyebrow lowered and one raised high. They hold that expression against Tylior’s displeased frown. Neither one buckles until a handful of spiders comes sliding down with a tray containing two coffee cups with spider web etched into the porcelain along with a jug of steaming black liquid.

Tylior runs his nose quickly over the steam as the spiders retreat back up after bowing deeply. To him it seems to be coffee, so he pours himself some, along with some for Aofil.

“Is it because you want to be sure that other humans can fall in love with monsters except just you, Tyl?” Aofil pops over quick before Tylior has time to raise his cup to his mouth. He sets it back hard, causing a few drops to jump out of the cup. Some lands on his hand, and he retracts it while shaking the pain off.

“Why are you asking me if I’m embarrassed that I love Sevoltne? I’m not, to make it crystal clear beyond any doubt. She’s a wonderful woman. Comes from a very respectable branch of monsters. Have you heard of Glenne Woolwing?”

“Can’t say I have, no,” Aofil admits after a thoughtful sip.

“Big griffon, lives a bit away from Mt. Ebott, in another mountain. Has helped Asgore a lot with building Monster City.”

“From another mountain?”

“Commuting is rather easy when you’re a majestic griffon and can fly.”

Aofil nods. “She related to Sevoltne?”

“Cousins, actually,” Tylior informs with a small motion of his injured hand to see how bad the burn is. “Thought you’d known her since you were so close with the Dreemurrs.”

“I don’t.”

“Alright then.” Tylior concludes that his hand has survived the ordeal, and puts his finger through the spider shaped ear of his cup. “I’ll tell Sevoltne that, she was the one that wanted to know.”

“Well now!” Aofil bounces their eyebrows playfully. “You two so close that she asks you for favors now? Is the wedding in a week or so?”

“Two weeks,” Tylior corrects as he raises his cup. One long drink later he puts the cup down while meeting Aofil’s dazed expression. “What?”

“Two...weeks?” Aofil repeats while cocking their head in confusion. “Marriage?”

Already? They’ve barely known each other for that long! Aofil’s no stranger to the eagerness of monsters, but two week until marriage? Is he really serious?

“I’m not serious, by the way.”

Oh…

Aofil heaves a relieved exhale. “Good.”

“We’re still probably gonna get married in the future though. I mean, we’re moving into an apartment of our own, and I don’t see us slowing down from there. I did manage to talk her into buying those felt chairs though. Gonna go great with those new curtains. I’ll invite you over for some housewarming once we’re done, Aofil.”

“I look forward to it!” Aofil smiles. “I should have my house facing the right side forward until then, so we can double the warming.”

“Right...side… You know what, I’m better off not asking.”

Aofil cheers to that.

The food comes a couple minutes later after Aofil and Tylior take a moment to enjoy the sun. The spiders leaving the food hands Aofil a folded up note before they slink back up.

“Could’ve at least let us taste the food before giving us the check.” Tylior blows his lips as he unwraps his cutlery from inside the bundled napkin sealed with spider silk. He pokes around a bit, moving some potatoes to one side of his plate, and some meat to another side. To his immense relief there’s no spiders hiding, involuntarily or not, underneath his food.

With a satisfied smile he cuts off a piece of each and stack them on his fork.

As he bites down his eyes pop open. He looks down onto the wooden grip of his fork while slowly pulling his fork out of his mouth. A string breaks off, and dangles from his lower lip.

A small compartment has opened up at the bottom end of his fork, and from it, three spiders have crawled out to help him with his eating. They’ve tied strings around the meat and potato to have them not fall off, and Tylior has bitten down on them happy as can be.

Happy as can was, at the current moment.

The spiders crawl together, and quiet chattering can be heard from them. After a second, they split up again. One travels up the fork, and shoots a string that sticks to Tylior’s front teeth. The terrified gasp it causes has the string fluttering, dangerously close to snapping. The spider is unfazed by it though, and with the help of the other two, it hoists a piece of potato up, and drops it.

The potato swings into Tylior’s mouth, hitting him directly on his uvula. He bends forward as a vicious cough attacks him, sending the spiders flying everywhere. He washes his mouth with the remainder of his water, and lobs it into the storm drain at his feet.

“Could you please tell your girlfriend to stop sneaking spiders into everything, Aofil?” he shoots over the table after managing to compose himself. Tylior grabs his napkin to dry his mouth. “Unbelievable.”

But Aofil doesn’t answer.

“Aofil?”

They’re too busy reading the note. Over, and over, and over again.

“Is it really that expensive? Your eyes are moving quicker than a speeding bullet!”

“Hm?” Aofil lifts their head, but their focus is still on the note. “No, it’s...” Their words drift off as they again read the note.

“No, it’s important,” Tylior says with a vague imitation of Aofil’s voice as he reaches over his hand over the table. “No wait, it’s nothing. You don’t have to read it, Tyl.”

Aofil snatches the note out of the one finger Tylior manages to get around the fold of the paper. They look back at him, and he opens his hand to ask for the note.

“It’s nothing,” Aofil says while pocketing the note quickly. “Just a bit about an order Toriel did for a school event, that’s all.” They take their fork and start eating.

Tylior shakes off the spiders from his own fork. “Really?” he asks while spinning the fork between two of his fingers once. He lets it slip down between them and implant itself on a potato.

“Really,” Aofil answers after swallowing their bite. “It’s nothing. Just a bit stunned over the price, that is. Granted, I’m not paying for the order, but it’s still a hefty amount.”

Tylior’s not convinced. He taps the back end of his fork so that it digs further and further into the cooked vegetable. “Not any of my concern? Even after you’ve said that you’re digging up stuff for one of the Royal Heirs? Even after you’ve flustered over me suggesting that you and Muffet are together? Even after that, nothing that concerns me?”

“If I were to ask you about your sex life with Sevoltne would you describe it in vivid detail?” Aofil retorts immediately after.

Tylior’s lips are dragged into a sinister smile. “You want tips with monsters?”

“That’s not...” Aofil shakes their head. “No.”

“Let me tell you about it anyways.” Tylior gropes out a cavity in the meat with his fork. “First, we-”

“Tylior,” Aofil says without blinking.

He looks up from his bent over posture. “Yes?”

“Stop.”

He retracts his knife from the cavity. “Your loss.”

“I doubt that.”

“And I, in turn, doubt that.”

Aofil, with a slightly less appetite than ten seconds ago, returns to their food with a sigh. “Just eat your food, you species deviant. Betrayer of the human race.”

“You have so many colorful ways to say that you’re jealous of me, Aofil.” Tylior cuts off the piece he made a dent in, slowly, and with passion. “You’re like a walking thesaurus.”

“I can just as easily retract your place in the queue for your apartment, you know?” Aofil threatens with a lettuce leaf and a piece of, what they think, and hope, chicken flapping wildly at the end of their fork pointed with great annoyance towards Tylior. “Have you live in something that’s one room smaller.”

“Sevoltne would have something to say about that, true. She does get really puffy when she gets angry which I always find cute. It’s like those old cartoons when the characters inflate their chest like a balloon. She hasn’t popped yet, luckily.”

“Alrighty then.” Aofil bites down on their fork and start chewing.

Tylior will drop the subject now. That Aofil’s sure of. He knows the boundaries, he was the one that helped Aofil set them. Damn...Aofil really enjoyed talking with Tylior now. Helped vent a bit. This note though that Muffet gave them, it’s so loud in their head right now. It’s not an immediate hurry, so Aofil’s not gonna excuse themselves. They’re still gonna enjoy eating lunch with a good friend, but after it they’re gonna head in and talk to Muffet.

They still need to pay for this, so it’s not that big of a detour.

But for now they’re gonna enjoy their company.

So they do. Eating in silence with Tylior, leaning back as he does when he’s finished, accepting the complimentary spider pastry, seeing him twist and turn it like Aofil would a piece of snail pie.

Once the coffee runs dry though, Tylior reaches behind him.

“I got it,” Aofil offers.

“You sure?” Tylior asks. “The price is-”

“We’re together, remember?”

“Right, right.” Tylior pushes himself out of his chair and offers his arms to Aofil. They embrace him, sending him away with a couple of gentle pats on his back.

“See you later, Tyl.”

“You too, Aof!” he waves as he walks down the street.

The spider chime sings Aofil’s entrance to the somewhat busy Spider Cafe. Muffet pokes her head up from inside her bakery, and her smile widens. She skips on her toes over to the register, and types in the total.

Even with Aofil’s...discount...they still feel their heart jump as the total rings. They swipe their card, and the green check mark indicating a successful transaction matches the color of their face.

“I got your note,” Aofil says as they fold their wallet into their pocket.

Muffet nods. “Inside the bakery,” she suggests while motioning Aofil to walk around the counter.

Aofil can feel the eyes of the entire dining hall pierce their back as they round behind the counter. Some whispers follow them inside the bakery, but they don’t pay it no mind.

“I know what you’re gonna ask, Aofil,” Muffet says carefully as she turns around with her hands rubbing against each other. “And the answer...” She looks up at Aofil with five soft eyes. “The answer is yes.”


	5. Pet persueeved

“I really do need your help to care of Muffin for a couple of days.”

Hey now! Hold up a second! Aofil throws up their hands, waving frantically while shaking their head quickly. “Oh no no no no! What? Why me?”

“Didn’t you read my note?” Muffet asks with three of her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that why you’re in here? If it wasn’t, then...” Her cheeks start to blush. “Then is it because you-”

Aofil finally manages to fish out the note from their pocket.

“...Oh.” Muffet looks the side and mutters a silent curse.

Aofil reads through the note again. “You wrote that you wanted to talk to me, and then that it’s important, and then that it is...”

‘a serious pet peeve’

Aofil blinks for a couple for seconds before crumbling the note in their hand and throwing it over their shoulder. A bunch of spiders come swinging from the roof and catch it in midair. They bring it over to the nearest trashcan.

“Alright, I might’ve misread the note,” Aofil admits with a tilted shrug and a sigh. “So I didn’t come here because I wanted to house Muffin for a while. Sorry if I disappointed you there.”

“It’s fine.” Muffin nods to herself while brushing away her fringe from her eyes with one while fiddling away with the rest. “I’ll figure out someone else to watch over him while I’m away. You were the first to spring to mind.”

“Why me?”

“Because I think Muffin likes you. He ran out the door when he heard you were here. He doesn’t do that often.”

The spider chime at the front door rings loudly along with wild panting turning the corner. A monster falls down in a flurry of limbs just outside the store window. The wind chime rings again, now with half panicked sobs and grunts.

Muffet excuses herself and heads out to the counter to tend to her new unwilling guest. She beckons for Aofil to hand her the tray of muffins on the table next to them. Aofil grabs the tray, and is burned by the heat. They find an oven glove shaped like Mettaton and use it to move the tray into Muffet’s reach.

“Thanks for your business! Ahuhuhu~” she wishes to the customer. The response comes as a terrified look over its shoulder as it grasps the muffin tightly in its hand, staring fearfully at the back of Muffet’s head as she walks back into the bakery. Aofil meets the horrified eyes for just a moment. They offer a warm smile as a form of help, but it fails.

As soon as the monsters thinks it’s safe, it runs for its life, dashing past the wide window in just two steps.

Not that often, ey?

“He usually goes out to bring new customers in, but with you he likes to say hi, Aofil,” Muffet explains as she carefully passes by Aofil to tend to some doughnuts rising in a nearby oven.

“Greeting me by trying to bite my fingers off?”

“Just a nibble, he’s not actually trying to eat you! Ahuhu~” Muffet giggles to herself. “Not anymore.”

Aofil’s not entirely convinced, and they shoot another look over to Muffin standing eagerly with his face pressed up against the store window, drool slobbing down the glass and pooling underneath him. It’s not a pretty sight, and even worse for the monsters passing and recoiling from realizing that they’re just inches away from a bottomless hole surrounded by vicious teeth and a flopping tongue.

“Sure,” Aofil mumbles out. “Not anymore.”

“Which is why I asked you first, Aofil.” Muffet closes the oven lid and removes her four oven gloves that she places neatly in a pile on top of it. “With me being away,” she says as she moves over to the refrigerator next to it. “I don’t think he can take care of himself during that long of a time. He needs all the love he can get!”

“How do you mean away exactly, Muffet?” Aofil asks. “Where are you going? Vacation?”

“Royal business,” she informs as she closes the fridge door hard after a silent beat. She walks over to the table Aofil is standing next to and places a large bowl covered in plastic wrap on it. “Can’t tell.” She removes the wrap and coaxes the dough onto the work surface.

Oh? “Is it a secret?” Aofil pries as they hand Muffet the flour she beckons for. “Something about a big party perhaps? Need a lot of pastry?”

Muffet’s lips curl up closer, and she spins around while embracing herself with her arms. “I can’t tell you anything more, Aofil.” She pretends she meant to cover herself with sticky dough, and scours the nearby shelf for some spices that she add to the dough.

“So why do you need me to look after Muffin?” Aofil pries further while trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“It’s...it’s a big order,” Muffet explains after some internal debating whether or not she should. “It’s so big that I’m not able to do it here. I have to go back to the Underground, but if I do, I’m gonna have to convince Muffin to go back in, and that’s gonna take all my energy that I need to bake.”

Is that so? It has to be for Frisk’s birthday, it can’t be for any other reason. Aofil can’t ask directly though, Muffet would relay that Aofil knows over to Asgore and Toriel. If they know that Aofil knows, then they’ll surely be sure that Frisk knows that they know since Aofil knows. Aofil knowing means that Frisk knows and if Muffet knows that Aofil knows it means that Frisk knowing would lead to Toriel and Asgore knowing that Muffet knows that Aofil knows and that Frisk knows.

Who knows!

Not Aofil, not know...now.

Their head is hurting for some reason.

Aofil takes support on the table next to them as they massage their head. A spider brings them a glass of water that they happily accept. They drink deeply, and exhale the jumbled thoughts.

Yeah, can’t have whatever mess that implies.

Subtle, Aofil needs to be subtle. To dig deep, but to also be careful not to hit any rocks that would alarm the ones around them.

How much more can they lean on Muffet though? Metaphorically, that is. Although judging by her latest blush, she wouldn’t mind the literal situation. Should Aofil leverage that? Nah, that would be an asshole move to do. Accepting the discount on the food served and free dessert is being a courteous guest and allowing the host to be generous.

That Aofil has no problem with. Neither does Muffet, since she stills does it.

Feigning a deeper relationship to fish for party plans?

That is a couple of steps over the line. That would lead to Aofil being strung up in a cocoon, and not in a loving manner.

No, Aofil needs to be more sneaky with this.

“How...how are you feeling, human?”

Aofil looks up from their hunched over posture summoned by their postulating to see Muffet waving her hand carefully with a slightly worried expression stretching over her arc of eyes. “Hm? I’m fine, I was just thinking a bit.”

Muffet nods. “Thinking about maybe taking care of Muffin after all? I’ll give you the food he needs, of course. I’ve been easing him off soul flavored food now so you should be able to sleep well during the night. I know he does.”

Should?

“He’ll be a bit calmer once he gets used to you, shouldn’t try and nibble at your exposed parts.”

Shouldn’t?

While bending down to open a nearby cupboard, Muffet throws one arm over it and towards the store window. “You have spiders in your home, right? He feels safer around them, and they’re his favorite snack! I’ll give you some doughnuts and cups of spiders as well if he gets grumpy in my absence. They’re special spiders, all the way from the equator! I’m trying to find a way to integrate them into my baking, but that might take a while. I have to have them not be poisonous, and I’m working on breeding it out of them.”

Poisonous?

“Last time was such a mess.” Muffet crosses her arms and shakes her head tiredly. “I’ve never heard such complaining in my entire life! Grillby makes his food spicy so people get cramps and he gets all the praise, but I serve poisonous spiders that give the same aches and everyone’s up in arms! I even offered a complementary spider effervescent tablets for half the price.” 

Muffet scoffs angrily. 

“Muffin doesn’t mind it though, and he thinks they are delicious, so that’s where they’re going for now.” She opens up a container and shakes it around. “Ain’t that right, my precious pet?”

Aofil has to lift their leg to give Muffin enough room to make the gap between Aofil and the nearby table. He slides up to the plastic container and dives his face into it.

“Ahuhuhuhu~” Muffet giggles with one hand planted gingerly on her cheek, and another on Muffin’s. “I haven’t seen you this excited since I got that super secret order I can’t talk about from the Royals. You sure liked the sound of that, didn’t you? Ahuhuhuhu~”

Aofil’s eyes snap down to the slobbering spider devouring its snack as graciously as an overly excited dog digging through loose dirt. The spiders managing to flee his vicious tongue whipping back and forth should worry Aofil, what with them being poisonous, but they’re not. Their mind is too occupied to be afraid right now.

Does Muffin know?

Oh, Frisk is gonna owe Aofil big time for this.

“You know what, Muffet?”

Big. Time.

“I think I might be able to.”

The two spiders stare with their mouths half opened. The ones inside Muffin’s mouth climb up onto his sharp fangs to do the same. 

“Y-you can?” Muffet manages to ask through her stiff expression. “You really can take care of Muffin for me?”

“For how long?”

“A week, maybe a week and a half.”

Big! Time!

“Yeah,” Aofil sighs out. “I can do that.”

A second later they’re squeezed tightly by all six of Muffet’s arms. “Thank you so much, human!” Wrapped up in a cocoon, but not one of spider string, but of spider arms. Just as cramped and uncomfortable though. A caressing clamp that wrings tighter and tighter for each second.

“Thank you,” Muffet says again with her head leaning over Aofil’s shoulder. They think they hear a relieved snivel from her as well.

No air is left in Aofil’s lungs, so they can’t really tell her that she’s welcome. That is something they will have to wait to give when Muffet releases them. If she releases them.

Muffet realizes after hearing Aofil taking a desperate breath in her ear. She releases them, allowing Aofil to greedily fill their lungs. Muffet wrings her hands with cheeks blushing in embarrassment. “Sorry, human. I didn’t mean it to hug you that hard.”

“It’s fine,” Aofil assures after a cough. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t ready for that, no worries.”

They barely have time to catch even the slightest of their breath before they’re jumped on again, this time by Muffin. The tiny spiders hang on for dear life as he lunges up on Aofil, licking their face with a tongue half filled with terrified and poisonous spiders. 

Big!! Time!!

Aofil pushes Muffin away so that their face is out of tongue’s reach. They have to extend their arm fully before that point is reached, and holding such a twitching and large monster is really taking a toll on Aofil’s shoulders. If they drop him he’ll charge at them again, so they’ll have to weather his weight and squirming for now.

“See!” Muffet cheers with glee. “You two will have no problem getting along! I might even have to fight to get him to come back with me when I return. Fuhuhuhuhu~”

Oh god no! She can’t be saying those things! Aofil might have to get Frisk to reset if that were to be the case!

Muffin cocks his head around as Muffet whistles for him, and he struggles out of Aofil’s hands, much to their delight. They roll their shoulders to force away some of the pain from holding Muffin up, and accidentally hit a button on one of the ovens. They quickly press it again, and inspect to make sure nothing happened.

Doesn’t seem to have done anything, thankfully.

“This is what you’ll be needing!” Muffet shouts from the other side of the bakery, waving six heavy bags in her hands. “I packed only the essentials!”

Only? But how-

The loud complaining from the table she places the spider laced bags on has Aofil worried. How are they supposed to get all of those home? Are they gonna have to get another wheelbarrow and have Alphys modify it? Willingly this time.

Maybe that’s indication enough that this is going too far?

Yes, very much so! Alas, Aofil made a promise, again. Gotta learn to stop doing that. Something about Frisk though. You can’t say no to them. Almost as Frisk is flirting or something.

Aofil’s brow lowers and a deep shadow creeps over their face, plunging it into complete darkness.

Oh no, they were.

“Again, only the essentials, human!”

Aofil looks up from their void of realization to discover another six bags bending the poor table even further.

“W-what are those for?” they ask with a perplexed finger outstretched in increasing fear.

“His other toys!” Muffet answers with a giggle. “These are his main toys.” She points with three arms to the first set of bags. “And these are his other toys in case he gets bored with his main ones,” she points with her other three arms.

“What’s the...” Aofil has to take a steadying breath as they feel a bit of fear creeping up their spine. “What’s the difference?”

Muffet narrows her eyes. She just said it! She points to the first set of bags again. “Main toys.” And then the second set. “Other toys.”

“Yes, but-” Aofil massages their tired forehead for a second or two. “What is the difference between the bags and the toys?”

“One jar of spiders he’ll play with first, and another he’ll only play with if he’s bored with the first ones.”

Why is Aofil surprised? Why didn’t they think of that from the very beginning? Of course it’s jars of spiders! Of course it’s gonna be those! Why oh why did Aofil think differently? The last desperate struggle of their mind to apply some form of normality where none belong? Apply sense to monster business?

Oh look, she’s bringing in more…

“Are those the toys for when he’s bored with the toys he’ll use when he’s bored with his main ones?” Aofil asks through a deep sigh.

Muffet nods happily. “Yes, now you’re getting it! You can tell the difference easily actually, now that I think about it. The main set are one species, the first backup is another, and the third one is another.”

“What kind of species?” Aofil asks, patting themselves, and looking around for a pen and paper to write it down. They lean quickly out the serving window, scaring the customers, and then leaning back in with a pencil and a notebook filled with Muffet’s scribbles.

“Oh, fuhuhuhuhu~” she giggles. “They have no name, not yet. I haven’t given them any yet.”

“Yes,” Aofil acknowledges as they flip through the pages to reach one that’s clean, “but what about its scientific name?”

“Ahuhuhu~” she giggles again. “No.”

Aofil shoots over a confused look. “No?”

“They don’t have one either.” Muffet puts a finger out, letting three spiders string themselves down and arrange themselves. “Like I said, they came all the way here from the equator, I think from a rain forest, or something, so they haven’t been documented yet.”

“You ordered them, right?” Aofil wants clarified, although they fear-

“No, they walked here.” Muffet holds up a finger. “Some flew using string, but most of them walked.”

Aofil holds their baffled look. She can’t be… She is serious! The three spiders nod, confirming her statement.

“So you have here bags full of, what I’m guessing jars?” Aofil asks while moving the pen in their hand from bag to bag.

Muffet and the spiders on her finger nods. “Glass jars.”

“Right!” Aofil flicks the pen upright. “Glass jars full of venomous-”

“Poisonous,” Muffet corrects a bit harshly.

“Glass jars full of poisonous spiders that are unknown to the scientific community, as well as your community, Muffet.”

She nods again.

“Right!” Aofil brings down the pen to the notebook, tapping the pen on it rhythmically. “And you’re using them as toys for your pet spider.”

Muffet nods, again.

“How exactly does Muffin play with the spiders?”

“Well.” Muffet walks over to a bag and brings up a jar. She puts her hand on the lid. “First I open and-”

“No!”

Muffet screw the lid back on again. “Sorry?”

“I am not opening jars full of poisonous spiders in my house, Muffet. I’m busy enough finding new things that Alphys have tinkered with, I don’t have the time to be scared to death that one is gonna escape and turn my inner walls into an arachnologist’s heaven.”

“Arachnologist?” Muffet asks while putting back the jar into its bag. “What’s that?”

“A human that specializes in studying spiders and such,” Aofil explains with a soft motion of their hand.

One of Muffet’s hand goes up to her mouth, with her elbow resting in another of her open palms. The rest of her arms are crossed in the same thought as the hand on her mouth. “Is that what that human was?” she wonders out loud to herself. “Would explain the lab coat.” She glances over to the three spiders that have moved up to her shoulder. They all shrug, and so does she. “Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t into her anyways.”

The spiders trade glances.

“I wasn’t!” Muffet repeats, louder, almost breaking her voice in the process. The spiders recoil back from the volume.

Aofil needs to force an answer here or else they’re gonna be here forever. “Do you have any other toys besides exotic spiders for Muffin to use?”

“Of course I have. He even gets bored of his tertiary toys. I have some bags with dog toys that he-”

“Those are fine!” Aofil shouts while stretching their arms out desperately. “I’ll take them.”

“They’re a bit annoying though,” Muffet warns with a reserved shrug. “They squeak so loud.”

“That’s fine!” Aofil repeats. “I can manage, I promise. Just no poisonous spiders.” They look over to the spiders on Muffet’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

Why did they apologize?

And another thing. “When do you want me to take care of him? Next week or so?”

“Oh no no no.” Muffet lets out a small chuckle while helping the spiders get closer to the wall so they can scurry up it. “I’m leaving in ten minutes.”

She’s-

“Muffin!” she calls with a whistle. “You’re going home with the human now! I’ll be back in a week, best pet. Be good now!”

But no one came.

“Strange...” Muffet whistles again, but there’s no trickle of eight excited feet running over tiled floors. “Where is he?”

The sound of Mew Mew season one’s intro song has Muffet’s whistle dying down. Aofil reaches into their pocket, and pull out their phone. “Yes, Alphys?” they answer.

“Hello, Aofil. I’m here at your house.”

“Oh yeah, there should be a key underneath the box of pillows.”

“Yeah, I found it.”

“Nice.”

“It’s not why I called though.”

Aofil’s brow sinks, half in fear, half in confusion. “Then why?”

“You know Muffet’s pet?”

“Muffin?”

Muffet’s head cocks over to Aofil’s phone, and they engage the speaker.

“Yeah, Muffin. H-he,” Aofil hears Alphys swallow through the phone, “he’s inside your house.”

“Oh?” Aofil and Muffet trade furrowed looks. “How did he get inside?”

“I s-saw him rush down the street, and then he went inside through a window.”

Aofil can’t remember having any open when they left. “Was it opened?” they ask.

“No. Don’t think he’s hurt though, he’s looking at me very creepily. I’m gonna put the remote where I found the key, alright?”

Aofil shoots over a pair of unblinking eyes to Muffet.

She looks down, cheeks blooming in embarrassment. “I’ll pay for it.”

BIG!!! TIME!!!


	6. House squatting

“What in the-”

Aofil puts up their hand up perpendicular to their forehead, giving their eyes some shadow so that they can see better.

Ele-twe-thir-fourteen!

Fourteen?

Why is there fourteen monsters standing eagerly in a group in front of Aofil’s lawn? Worse yet, why aren’t they backing away from Muffin growling in the smashed window? Aofil can hear it even from where they are standing on the other side of the road, so why aren’t the monsters scrambling away in a panic?

A pink and blue striped arm is raised above the murmuring heads, waving to get Aofil’s attention.

Could be a clue.

Aofil squeezes past the whispering monsters. They hear their name and their house mentioned ten times too many, and when they plop out of the other end, the small convention of conferencing creatures cease their colloquium.

“Why do you have a camera, Asriel?” Aofil asks the young Boss Monsters fiddling with a lens that looks to be expensive, furthering stirring the baffled worry that is the reason. 

“School project,” he answers while checking the viewfinder as he points the camera towards the house. Again, why? He adjust just a bit more, and then nods to himself. “We’re gonna calculate how much force is exerted on your house’s legs when they turn around. That’s physics, right? Tension as well.”

Frisk shoots a quick shrug. “Depends on how it moves.”

“I guess.”

“Yeah,” Aofil is forced to step in here and take over, “that’s not really what I asked you to do.”

“Take a household object and put it through a series of stress tests, calculating the force, and tension where applicable,” Frisk reads from a piece of familiar paper they retrieve from their backpack. “Provide your reference material and calculations in your report. To be handed in next week, yadda yadda, signed Aofil. Black on white, literally, even the pictures you included.”

Ariel throws a confident point up to the angled house standing as if squatting for a pose. “We have your house’s legs, which are...”

“Holding my house up...” Aofil finishes with a sigh. “You got this idea from Sans?”

“He’s not the only one that can make jokes,” Frisk counters with a cocky smile as they fold the homework instructions in half, dragging their thumb and index finger across the bend. 

“Was mostly referring to him having a background in science, or at least, monster science,” Aofil corrects with a circular motion of their hand, “but the process is the same from what I’ve seen. He’s more than just a joke machine you know, despite how weird my tongue feels when I say that about him.”

“Oh...” Frisk almost drops the folded paper as it slips out of one of their hands.

“We could’ve asked Alphys as well,” Asriel reminds while securing the last bolt on the tripod for the camera.

Did they? “Did you?”

“She gave us some data about the weight and how it’s distributed.” Asriel nods up the street. “We met her on the way here. She told us that you should be home in a bit to turn your house back around. We then asked her if she could give us the data, and she could. We’ll be using that since we can’t really weigh your house. Our bathroom scale can handle dad, but not a house.”

There’s so much to unpack from that, Aofil’s not even sure where to start. Guess they’ll start with the most important part since they feel that it takes precedent. They cross their arms. 

“How high does your bathroom scale scale to?”

“Don’t know, it’s digital,” Asriel answers after thoughtful tilt of his head. “Although, dad once told me it might work with a house since he and mom used it together once. She...”

“She was very vocal in getting him to explain exactly what he means by that,” Frisk adds, breathing in through clenched teeth. “You know when you accidentally turn on cold water instead of warm when you shower?”

“No,” Aofil blatantly lies, “but go on.”

“That’s kinda how it felt when dad’s laughter was interrupted by mom’s loud cough.”

“I thought he handled it well,” Asriel says while crossing his own arms, leaning against Aofil’s picket fence that was decided to be there for them. “He’s one of the few monsters that can stand up to mom being, well, mom.”

“A king’s burden.” Aofil nods, pleased with what they just said. Maybe a bit too much, but what’s the hurt in being a bit prideful every now and then?

“That’s what he calls it, yeah,” Frisk informs, knocking Aofil off their high horse with a sledgehammer, sending them tumbling down and landing on their neck. Aofil rolls their shoulder in an attempt to shake off their internal embarrassment.

“Not when mom’s around though,” Asriel quickly affixes with a raised finger.

“Of course.” Frisk throws one hand up. “Obviously. He’s not stupid like that.”

“Yet he chose to make fun of Toriel?” Aofil asks, brow furrowed inquisitively.

“No, that’s just him being dumb,” Asriel answers. “What’s the difference?” he ask himself with a vague resemblance to Aofil’s voice, lowering their extended finger raised in preparedness for exactly that question. “The difference being that he’s stupid when he does those things when he knows when mom is around, and dumb when he doesn’t.”

Aofil’s baffled eyebrows fly up.

“It’s easier to distinguish that way,” Frisk explains with a shallow shrug. “Stupid when the person’s subject is around, dumb when it’s not. It’s easier to wrap your head around if you separate the two, I’ve found.”

“Monsters?” Aofil asks, despite knowing the anwer.

Frisk nods, ignoring the seething look from Asriel. “Exactly.”

“And speaking of monsters!” Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder. “What about these? I’m pretty sure I put an upper limit on the project groups to be three, not sixteen.”

“We’re here to watch the show!” one in the group shouts. “Payed good money for it! You turning it around soon?”

Aofil’s hand sinks back down to their side, and their eyes lock hard on both Asriel and Frisk. “Pray tell.” They’re very eager to know.

The two siblings trade glances, guilty glances. “We...” Frisk starts.

“We decided to do two school projects in one go,” Asriel finishes. “You know, the economy one?”

Aofil leans forward with their arms tightly crossed. “You did a startup about my house? An entertainment company specialized in my house dancing for your amusement?” There’s no answer, not verbally, that is. Their silence speaks plenty though, and Aofil leans back upright with a devious shadow growing over their face.

“I want in. I’m the one with the house, after all.” They tap two of their fingers down on the air. “Fifty percent. See it as a favor.”

The two siblings raise an eyebrow each in unison.

“I’m giving you more material to add to your report. Hostile takeover, or something? Anyway, fifty percent, or I’m keeping the house as it is now.” They beckon for Frisk to open their backpack again. “I want it written as well, a proper contract. Again, this is to give you more material for your report.”

Frisk unconvinced cough flies past Aofil like a gentle sigh inside a class five tornado. After some, rather obvious, feigning from Frisk as they can’t find any paper, Aofil notices the, rather obvious, notebook pushing against the side of their backpack. Frisk flips it open, and Aofil takes out Muffet’s pen that they accidentally pocketed. To their relief it is spider free, but the ink isn’t really ink as much as colored silk. Makes for very nice lines though, Aofil might ask Muffet to sell them some.

“Right, there we go.” Aofil hands over the pen and paper for the siblings to sign. “Just do your yours truly and then you can keep it. I’m gonna take a photo of it first to-”

“Come on, Aofil,” Asriel sighs, throwing down his hand, almost ripping the contract in half. “Isn’t this a bit overboard?”

“Yes!” Aofil agrees fully. “But it will give you good grades, which in turn will give you more pie from Toriel, so in the end I’m doing you two a favor. It’s better that I give you a small slap on the fingers now so that you don’t get them chopped off in the adult world.”

The two siblings both shiver. Aofil’s pretty sure why, but a quick look to Frisk confirms it. They nod carefully towards Muffin, prompting a very perplexed expression from Frisk. “I’m on it,” Aofil mouths carefully.

Once Frisk and Asriel have signed with the help of each other’s back, Aofil takes a picture of the contract before handing it back to the kids. “Right, shall we?”

With confidence, and a bit of recovered pride, in their step, Aofil saunters up to their patio. They hoist themselves up to it. Not elegantly, but it’ll have to do. The remote is indeed in the place Alphys said it was, inside the pillow casket. On top of the pillows.

Not where Aofil would’ve wanted to find it, to be completely honest. Not even a post-it saying ‘Don’t touch’ or something? Jeez.

“Yes, yes, Muffin,” they address the slobbing monsters peeking out of their destroyed window. “I’ll be back in a bit. You want to come out, by the way?”

The spider shakes his head violently, sending streaks of drool reaching far on each side of the smashed window.

“Suit yourself. Maybe strap in as well.”

The remote is colored yellow with a wide arrange of buttons on it along with a display at the top. Aofil walks to where Frisk and Asriel are standing while studying the buttons. None explicitly say ‘Move back around’, but there is a button labeled ‘Voice command’, so Aofil is gonna hazard a guess on that one.

It’s either that or ‘Fold for travel’, ‘Open for maintenance’, or ‘Mew Mew Dance Party’.

“Camera rolling?” Aofil asks Asriel.

“It’s digital.”

Smartass. “Red dot blinking then?”

Asriel angles the viewfinder so that he can see if it is. “Yes.”

Aofil clicks the button, and brings the remote up to their mouth. “Turn back around,” they state to it, articulating as hard as they can so that it doesn’t misinterpret anything. The last thing they want is it misinterpreting as ‘Mew Mew Dance Party’, although that would be rather fun to see how the kids would go about calculating that.

With a loud whirring sound, the house’s legs bounce, sending out another loud flushing noise for all to hear. It starts extending one leg, and in doing so, knocks Muffin off balance. He looses grip on the broken window, and tumbles down into the corner of the house.

It freezes in place, and the upper floor windows open up wide. The knees start to shake, and soon the entire house is shivering.

Aofil sighs. “Goddammit, Alphys.” 

The house flings itself to the other side, sending Muffin tumbling in a jumble of limbs and slobbing tongue. The house spins around, lifting its feet high as it tries to shake off the spider inside it.

“Calm down!” Aofil orders through the remote, but to no avail.

The pipes and cables connecting to the house bend in ways that shouldn’t be possible, but in comparison to the reason they’re bending, it’s not really that surprising.

“Maybe you should try and coax it a bit, Aofil?” Asriel suggests with a quick motion of his hand towards the unsettled house.

“I’m not going near it when it’s flailing around like that.” They wave the remote in their hand. “Not gonna tell it to stop though since it’ll be in a worse pose than what it started in. Let’s just wait it out.”

“What about Muffin?” Frisk wonders.

Aofil cocks their head with a very unamused look plastered over their face.

Frisk concedes with a nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“If I’m lucky it’ll contain its stomping to just underneath it and not trample my lawn.” Aofil thinks out loud. “It’s finally started to grow since last time it wandered on the property.”

The house puts one leg perpendicular in the air, kicking wildly while shaking itself equally wildly. Glimpses of Muffin hanging on for dear life on the flapping front door has Aofil a bit worried, but he should lose grip any moment now.

“I remember having to open the gate for it when Alphys and Undyne brought it here,” Frisk says while turning their head away from the two story building trashing itself around on large pink legs that are desperately kicking wherever it can as doors and windows slam into their respective frames, creating a panicked percussion per pet purging.

Aofil turns to meet Frisk, eyebrows raised in swelling curiosity while still in the presence of their abaft abode abruptly abolishing an acquainted arachnid. “Really?” 

“Sans and Papyrus weren’t home, so they went up to our house to ask for assistance,” Asriel answers while easily moving his eyes from the startled stilts striking soiled soil. “Laid on the horn and everything.”

Aofil scratches their temple, ignoring their hopping house hoping his humbugness have heaved hence. “They couldn’t have done it themselves?”

Asriel checks the viewfinder to see if the auto focus can keep up with the house’s extravagant escapades exasperating everything excluding exploding. “Gotta have to ask them about that.”

The sound of something heavy rolling down the gravel path steals back the observers’ attention to the house. Muffin stumbles up on his legs, but falls over with his tongue hanging out, breathing heavily.

The house suffers on last shiver before it settles back down, the wrong way again. Jumping up as if suddenly remembering what it was supposed to do. The house makes a small pirouette, with the front door facing forward again. The windows and door close carefully, and from inside, Aofil can see their jumbled furniture beginning to rearrange everything back together from the ravaging ruckus.

“Yoooo!” comes an excited voice from the crowd behind. “That was awesome!”

Applause ring out from the crowd, and Aofil sees their house begin to move again. They press the voice command button on the remote again. “Don’t.”

It sinks back down.

Might just as well make sure proper that it stays down. “Disable personality for the house,” Aofil orders through the remote, earning themselves a slight scowl from Asriel and Frisk.

“What?” Do they really have to defend their actions? “I don’t want my house to take a bow! Sorry, I’m too human like that. I’m used to my house not being bummed out when I tell it to not take a freaking bow after trying to shake off a spider that’s inside it. Call the cops on me!”

Frisk tugs a quick smile. “If you say so.”

“I very much say so,” Aofil makes clear. “You got everything filmed, Asriel?”

He extends his thumb while nodding.

“Alright then.” Aofil points behind them. “Disperse your friends now that the show is over, and good luck with calculating each and every tilt that my house did.”

The two siblings trade worried laughter.

“I’m completely serious.”

The laughter stop. Aofil turns up their gravel path, stopping next to Muffin to poke at him with their foot. He halfheartedly snaps at it with his mouth, giving more than enough indication that he’s alive. “Come on, you devil spawn, I know that you’re awake. Muffet will be here soon with your stuff, and she’ll be mighty cross with me if she finds you like this.” Aofil wiggles their foot underneath the burbling monster, and rolls him over on his stomach. They give him some hard pats on his back. “Let’s go.” Aofil manages a couple of step before they hear Muffin slowly start to follow.

Another, less numerous, pair of footsteps also close in on Aofil. They turn to meet Frisk walking up with their hand rooting inside their backpack. “Have you found anything out?” they whisper while pretending to check deeper inside their backpack.

Aofil glances over Frisk’s shoulder. Asriel’s packing up the camera along with its equipment. Frisk could probably talk with a normal volume to their voice, but with all the secrecy they want, it’s understandable that they whisper now.

“Not yet,” Aofil answers quietly. “I might have a lead or two though.” They nod once down to Muffin, who looks up to Frisk when they follow Aofil nod. His tongue runs a very wet lap around his lips.

Frisk’s eyes dart back to Aofil, then back to Muffin, and finally back to Aofil again. “What?”

“Might,” Aofil repeats. “I’ll poke around elsewhere if this doesn’t go anywhere, I promise.”

“Right, thanks.” Frisk squirms a bit. “Sorry, I’m just...”

“It’s fine,” Aofil reassures with a smile. “I’ll let you know when I got something.”

Frisk nods. “Thanks.” They hurry back down the gravel back to Asriel to help him carry. Aofil can see Asriel asking Frisk something, but Frisk shrugs it off. He hesitates to shrug himself, but that could just be the weight of the camera weighing his shoulders down.

Aofil nudges Muffin gently with their foot. “So how can I get you to spill the beans?”

Muffin looks up with inquisitive eyes blinking asynchronous. The sound is quite disturbing, akin to smacking moist lips. Not as much as the sound of Muffin smacking his own moist lips, but the vague resemblance is plenty enough to make Aofil wish that such wasn’t the case.

If he’d stop slobbing all over their pant leg they’d be grateful as well. They retract it away from the large tongue. “No,” they state. “Muffet is easing you off soul food, I am not allowed to give you a snack.” 

Muffin stops on the stairs leading up to the house as Aofil opens the door. They wave for Muffin to follow inside, promising that it’s fine now, the house is grounded. Muffin hesitates to poke a leg inside, but after some not too subtle shoving from Aofil’s foot and drooled leg, he’s inside again.

Aofil bends one knee and leans to the side. “Whoa!” Their pretended loss of balance has Muffin flinching, and sprinting outside the door again. He doesn’t come back inside for a while, since Aofil’s laughing too much to be able to call for him again.

He eventually enters, albeit even more carefully than before.

The house is busy, an army of, what should be, common items running around with identical legs as the house wields, rearranging what the biggest legs kicked over. Aofil walks while trying their best not to react or acknowledge their umbrella opening up to help scoop up nearby shards of porcelain.

Muffin follows, eyes darting back and forth, confused and on toe.

Aofil sits down in one of their kitchen chairs. “Water, please. For Muffin as well, in a bowl,” they instruct. “Did you put some slices of cucumber and lemon in the pot, by the way?”

A dew covered glass served to the brim with ice cold water along with slices of frozen cucumber is served over Aofil’s shoulder by their fridge, and they nod in thanks. Muffin is given a bowl with the same glistening water, and he makes short work of it. A bit too short a work, as he cranes his neck up while letting out a long and pained moan.

“A bit too greedy there, Muffin?” Aofil takes a careful sip as to not have their own head crumple into the same ice as the cucumber in their glass.

For the good part of a minute, Muffin’s mouth stays wide opened until he finally manages to shake it violently. Cold spit splashes against Aofil’s leg, and they shiver from the sudden impact. 

Muffin’s head stops, sending his tongue smacking across the length of his cheek. He turns towards the front door. Aofil leans out into the hallway to see who it could be. They’re almost knocked off their chair as Muffin bolts towards the door. Before he reaches it he takes a sharp turn, away from the broken window on the door’s right side.

“Muf-”

The loud shattering of glass interrupts Aofil.

Why? Aofil turns to the fork running across the table. “Why?” they plead to it. It shrugs, and continues its travel towards the sink. 

Always with this! Every single gosh dang time. Couldn’t jump out of the already broken window!

No! Gotta make it symmetrical and break the other as well! One for getting in, one for getting out! 

Aofil groans as they stand up, sending out their annoyance for all to hear! From the top of Ebott their sigh will echo out to sing their lament. If it’s not a stuck window used for entrance without asking the monsters break it. If the house isn’t where they want it to be they attach robotic legs and have it walk across the country.

Aofil sighs again as they lay their hand on the front door’s handle.

Why do they love the monsters so much? 

Their air is swiftly pushed out of their lungs as Muffin flies onto their chest the moment Aofil opens the door. Aofil falls down on their back, and before they can get their bearings, thousands of smaller spiders start flowing around their head, carrying bags upon bags of…more spiders? Oh god-

No, just toys. Dog toys.

Aofil exhales in relief despite not having any air in their lungs. Their organs quickly inform Aofil of that, and their sharp gasp has Muffet’s curious head peeking over Muffin.

“Thanks again for taking care of him, Aofil.” She smiles while waving a small bag. “Here’s some doughnuts for you two.”

“You can put it on the table next to you,” Aofil informs while fighting Muffin mouth and tongue away from their face.

“Could you also give this to Alphys?” Muffet asks while tapping on another, smaller, bag. “As thanks for her upgrades.”

Aofil finally manages to close the mouth of Muffin. “Sure, I’ll pop over there in a bit.”

Muffet claps, sending the torrent of spiders in the opposite direction. She gives Muffin a wide hug will all of her arms. “You be good now! Ahuhuhuhu~”

“Good luck with your baking!” Aofil wishes warmly while wrapping their arm around Muffin’s mouth so that they can wave with the other. Once she’s closed the door behind her they roll Muffin off to their side, and he lays panting in tandem with Aofil.

Alphys, ey? What kind of upgrades? Aofil swivels their head over towards the table. The two bags are almost smoking, and it smells absolutely delicious.

Come to think of it, it is an hour or two after lunch now. Maybe Aofil should have some tea with their neighbors in the sun?

Sounds like a plan.

But first.

“More water, please!”

Muffin’s tongue falls dramatically onto the wooden floor with a dry thud.

“And some for him as well.”


	7. Lost in translation

“Hello, Undyne!”

“’Sup, Aof! How is it-ngaah!”

“Could you keep an eye on Muffin for me while I talk to Alphys?”

“Get off me, you damn mistake!”

“Thanks.”

Aofil steps over the fence that Muffin jumped just a couple of seconds earlier. He should be busy enough with Undyne now, from the looks of it he’s managed to wrap his limbs quite awkwardly around Undyne’s, despite her damnedest not to allow that.

It’s a scene straight out of a horror movie, the large and drooling spider first rushing from out of her vision, only to jump with fangs exposed straight for her face. Undyne reacted in the nick of time though, and her arms are now locked in a battle of attrition with the head of the struggling spider. Aofil makes a mental note of the large dumbbells laying in the grass underneath the workout bench Undyne immediately tumbled out of when she caught Muffin lunging into her. Might be that she was resting between sets.

“How’s this for surprising your muscles, Undyne? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Aofil catches a glimpse of an opened mystery novel next to one of the dumbbells. 

“Or are you surprising them with your book?” Aofil adds as they tilt their head to try and read the title. It becomes obscured from their view as Undyne retreats while on her back up to the bench. She manages to get one hand up on it before she has to brace for Muffin jumping on her again. She tumbles away again in a flurry of limbs and swears.

“Guess I’ll leave you two to it.”

Aofil knocks on the glass door before entering. “Alphys?” they ask through the sound of electronic tools as they near the basement. “It’s Aofil. Muffet told me to bring you some doughnuts for some upgrades you did!”

The whirring dies down. “S-sorry!” comes an apologetic voice from downstairs. “I didn’t hear! W-who is it?”

“Aofil!” Aofil answers back.

“Oh! I’m coming up!” Alphys shouts back from behind the basement door. There’s some clanking and quiet talking before she peeks her nose out after opening the door slowly. “H-hello, Aofil,” she greets while drying off her hands on an oily towel that’s fastened at the side of her lab coat. She pushes up her glasses with a claw. “Have you turned back your house yet?”

“Yeah, I did.” Aofil nods slowly, and reservedly. Didn’t she hear? “You didn’t notice?”

Alphys points behind her. “Been busy.” She laughs once, dragging a giggle that’s more like a snort than a comfortable laugh. She swallows hard as she hears it.

“Right.” Aofil hands over the paper bag with Alphys’ pastry. “New parts for Mettaton?”

Alphys’s nose disappears inside her bag as she looks down into it. “Oh, no, no, no.” She waves the notion away. “He has plenty stocked. I am doing-”

The paper bag contracts, clinging to the outline of Alphys’ nose and the doughnuts just an inch away from the tip of it. It expands, only to contract again, as Alphys lets out some unconvincing laughs. “Nothing.” She almost rips the bag up as she snaps her head up. “Nothing, I am just doing nothing.” Her hands crumple the top of the bag, rolling it up as she wrings her hands. She stops just short of squishing the doughnuts. “A whole lot of nothing! He he!”

She swallows hard again.

“I don’t know.” Aofil crosses their arms, the sound of it cutting Alphys ears so hard that she hunches over with her hands moving up her temples. “Sounds like a whole lot of something to me.”

Alphys feigned laugh does nothing to help her situation, and Aofil can see the gears turning at the speed of sound in her head. She’s definitely up to something, and it could be for Frisk’s birthday. Aofil makes another note to investigate further when they can. For now they’ll stick with Muffin.

And speaking of him.

Before Aofil can ask Alphys, Undyne’s head is thrust through the opened kitchen window. “Alphys!” she shouts, startling both her and Aofil with her sudden bark. “What is a common human dish that involves spiders?”

Alphys and Aofil trade looks, and shrugs. “You two are useless!” Undyne cranes her head back with a tired groan, which turns into a pained groan as she hits her head on the top of the window frame. She massages the impact. “I’ll just reference chicken. It’s the closest one, I bet.”

Undyne mumbles her way out again, and Aofil can see her taking position through the door. Her wrist flexes, and as she throws her arm down, a long, blue, and crackling spear forms. “Listen here, you overgrown little bug!” She points the spear forward menacingly. “I’m gonna-” She’s forced to dodge Muffin hopping up on her. “No! You have to wait until I’m done with-” She dodges again. “Stop it!”

“So yeah,” Aofil moves their eyes away from the dance of dodging, “I was wondering if you could whip up a spider translator of sorts for Muffin.”

Alphys only hears the last words. “Hm?” she voices. “A what?”

“A spider translator, or something, for Muffin,” Aofil repeats with a finger pointed towards Muffin who’s jaw is wrapped firmly around Undyne’s spear.

“Get off!” she tries to command while tugging left and right, swinging Muffin around like a rag doll.

“Oh!” Alphys shakes her head. “No, no I can’t.”

“Oh.” Aofil nods to themselves. “I see.” This might prove harder than they imagined. If Alphys can’t, then that pretty much means that no one can. No one that Aofil knows of, that is. Perhaps someone that they don’t know knows though? Perhaps Mettaton might be persuaded to give up another tinkerer’s name? That would mean doing something to get another stamp on their banned card. Shouldn’t be too difficult if they bring Muffin.

“I’ve already loaned it away today, so you’ll have to wait.”

Aofil blinks. “Sorry?”

“Papyrus came over earlier today and asked if he could loan it for the day,” Alphys repeats with some confidence slinking back into her voice. “He needed it for something. I think it was about cleaning.”

“Oh.” Aofil turns around so that they’re facing where Papyrus’ house would be if Alphys’ wasn’t in the way. “You think he’s home now?”

“S-should be, I guess. Don’t see why he would loan it and then not use it.”

“Good point.” So yeah. “I’m off to Papyrus then.” Aofil points towards the very wrinkly bag. “You got your doughnuts, and the thanks from Muffet, so I’ll let you get back to your nothing.”

Alphys nods, immensely relieved. “Y-yeah, I will.”

Wait! Aofil just remembered. “Before I go, a question about my house. Well, actually a couple.”

Alphys nods again, her newfound relief rapidly draining. “Y-yes?”

“I used the voice command button to tell it to turn around.”

“D-did it work?” Alphys braces herself for a heavy ‘no’.

“Yes.”

She exhales calmly.

“But.”

And inhales sharply.

“It became scared because Muffin was inside of it. I was just wondering why you programmed fear into my house.”

“Ha!” Undyne’s voices her entrance with a loud scoff. “Told you that it was inverted, Alphee!” 

Muffin does his best to escape the magical rope tied around his legs. Undyne keeps him at distance though, but only for a short while. She swings the spider back and forth. “Aofil! Catch!”

A trail of arching spit follows Muffin’s parabolic trajectory, and splashes shortly after his ungraceful landing onto the hardwood floor. He bounces a couple of times before rolling into the pink hatstand, knocking over a pink and yellow coat that gently covers his disoriented head.

Aofil looks back at Undyne, having followed Muffin’s awkward descent after taking a step aside. They throw up a befuddle hand.

Undyne throws one up herself. “Why didn’t you catch him?”

“I’d throw out my back if I did. He weighs a tonne, Undyne. It would be like catching a wrecking ball. His hairs would stab me right through my chest!”

Undyne blows her lips, and throws her hand dismissively towards Aofil. “And what will your precious baker say when she finds out about this? It might squander your chances with her, Aof. No more free doughnuts for you! Ngahahaha!”

Aofil’s brow furrows hard, and a half disgusted expression blossoms on their face. “My what?”

“I’m not stupid, Aofil!” Undyne flashes a cocky smile. “I’ve seen the way Muffet looks at you, how she discounts your food, and how she lets you take care of her pet.”

Aofil’s eyes roll so hard they almost spin out of their skull. “Lay off the anime, Undyne.”

“Ha!” As if. “Your house being scared of the spider proves it!”

“Remember to stretch after your mental gymnastics, Undyne.”

“Alphee made the remote so that it transfers your personality through to the house. It’s yours, after all.”

“But it was scared,” Aofil feels the need to remind with a condescending motion of their head and an even more condescending tilt of their head.

“Yes!” Undyne nods, her smile growing even bigger. “That’s because Alphys made it inverse! Didn’t you, Alphee?”

She averts her eyes.

Undyne points with her open palm towards the blushing lizard. “See? I’m completely right!”

“Sure,” Aofil lies.

“How long are you keeping that freak by the way, Aof?”

“A week or so, why?”

Undyne rolls her shoulder. “Was good exercise, unlike some humans that are supposed to be stronger.” She winks none too subtly with both her eyebrows over to Aofil. “You can’t spar to save your life, Aofil!”

“And you can’t hold a poker face to save your raise, Undyne,” Aofil retorts while patting their pant pocket where their wallet is. “I’ve still got some spare change from last time, you know?”

Her face drains into a stubborn pout. She summons a small spear in her hand that she tosses towards Aofil halfheartedly.

Aofil smacks it out of the air. “Would you stop throwing stuff at me, Undyne?”

“Impressive! Might be hope for you yet!” She laughs all the way out the patio door, and even more once she’s outside.

Aofil shakes their head. “I’m off to the skelebros then.” They nod goodbye to Alphys, who nods back. “Can’t be worse than this, or what happened to my house.”

Alphys struggles to hide her cough.

“Yeah,” Aofil agrees. “Shouldn’t really be tempting fate like this, should I?”

The doorbell sings a very melodic tune as Aofil pushes it. They take a step back, just in case, and lift Muffin out of the way as well. His legs are still shackled by Undyne’s magic, but Aofil is not in a hurry to get them off. They have some semblance of control over him now, which is far more than they could ever wish for.

The door is not as much opened as it is pushed out by Sans leaning against it. He slides down until flat on the ground with his face facing down into the welcome mat adorned with Papyrus’ visage.

“Hi, Sans,” Aofil greets.

“aof,” Sans greets back. “good to see you.”

“Down to earth today, I see.”

“heh.”

“How are you?”

“tired.”

Aofil can see that. “So you’re kissing your brother good night, or something? I think Papyrus would appreciate it more if you did it to his real face rather than this mat that, I’m guessing, a lot of people have stepped on. Might want to brush your teeth after you get up from it.”

Sans angles his head up, his eyes narrowed hard. “what do you mean by that, exactly?”

“What you’re thinking of now is all in your head, Sans. Not mine.”

He shrugs, “just wanted to be sure,” and lies his face down again.

“Any reason why you don’t nap on a sofa, bed, or hammock?”

“well, i was, but then there was this human who wanted to come in.”

“Yes, yes.“ Aofil waves it away. “Do you mind if I step over you? Can’t come in otherwise.”

“will i have the sun on me if you do?”

Aofil looks behind them, but the sun is not visible. “I don’t-” A sweeping breeze interrupts them.

“found it!” Sans shouts from somewhere inside the house. “it was right here by the window.”

That’s where it usually is, yes, but Aofil’s not in the mood for arguing semantics right now. They’re here for Papyrus, and judging by the sound of a working vacuum from upstairs, he’s probably doing his cleaning right now.

“Papyrus?” they ask after knocking on the door from where the cleaning is emanating. 

“NO, THAT’S THE DOOR, AOFIL! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM JUST BEHIND IT! TO OPEN IT YOU-”

Aofil opens it without hearing the instructions, much to Papyrus’ surprise. “I know how to use a door, Papyrus. Don’t worry.”

“THEN WHY DID YOU KNOCK?” Papyrus pats his foot on the power button on the vacuum, and it dies off with a sad whir. “IF YOU DID KNOW, THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST ENTER?”

“Because...” Aofil meets Papyrus’ stare to determine if he’s joking. He’s not. Quite inquisitively, to be perfectly honest. Leaning against the hose with one elbow, and with the other hand firmly planted against his side, Papyrus descends deep into thought. “Because I wanted to be nice and not interrupt you?”

“YOU FELT THAT YOU HAD TO BE NICE BECAUSE I WASN’T ENOUGH?”

“Oh! No! No! No!” Aofil waves their hands in a state of building panic. They did not mean it like that! “Of course not, Papyrus.”

“I’VE TOLD YOU BEFORE, RIGHT?”

“Yes.”

“AND YOU DID GET MY LETTERS ABOUT ALWAYS BEING WELCOME?” Papyrus’ voice is on the cusp of wavering, dangerously so.

“Yeah, I did.” All a hundred of them. “I just wanted to be nice back, you know?”

Papyrus nods. “I SEE! HOWEVER, YOU STILL HAD TO KNOCK, WHICH MEANS THAT I’VE NOT COMMUNICATED TO YOU AS WELL AS I THOUGHT!”

“Could just be that I didn’t hear it properly?” Aofil retorts, as friendly as they can be. “Fault could be on my side here.”

Papyrus shakes his head, which isn’t a surprise to Aofil. “YOU HAVE ACTUAL EARS, AOFIL, WHOSE FUNCTION IS TO HELP YOU HEAR BETTER! IT MAKES MORE LOGICAL SENSE FOR ME HAVING NOT COMMUNICATED TO YOU LOUD ENOUGH THAN MILLIONS OF YEARS OF EVOLUTION FAILING AT JUST THAT MOMENT! STATISTICALLY, IT’S ABSURDLY UNLIKELY!”

Is it logical? Aofil’s not sure. They don’t get a lot of time to give it any thought though, as Papyrus excuses himself to pass by Aofil. “I KNOW JUST THE THING TO SOLVE THIS CONNIVING CONUNDRUM!” Before Aofil can ask him where he is going, they feel a subtle wind behind them.

“you know that big spider you brought with you?”

“Yes?” Aofil turns around while Papyrus hurries down the stairs and down the basement. “What abo-”

Sans nods as Aofil sees the reason. “it’s kinda eating my leg at the moment. it’s not a calf that’s he’s munching on. well, technically it is, but technicalities don’t stop it from hurting.”

Muffin looks over to Aofil for a split second before returning his eyes to the slobbered leg.

“Must be the ketchup and such that caught his scent. Does it hurt?”

“yeah, it does.” Sans nods down to the spider sucking loudly on his leg. “you’ve ever had your skeleton munched at?”

“Can’t say I have, no.”

“well, that’s about how much it hurts.”

“Not that much since you’re still standing and not making a lot of effort to remove him.” Aofil nudges Muffin with their foot. He seems pretty stuck where he is.

“not in the mood of also having my fingers bitten off too, thank you very much. what else am i gonna use as a pillow?”

Aofil goes down on one knee as they try and coax Muffin away from Sans. “A pillow, perhaps?”

“that you feel a need to talk back at me like this in my time of need, aof.”

Aofil itches Muffin on the spot behind his temple they found earlier at lunch. Muffin collapses in a satisfied sigh, his tongue sliding down Sans’ leg slowly as it’s wrapped around, much to his dismay.

“there’s a towel on the hand rail which pap uses to clean off after he’s waxed philosophical, can you hand it to me, please?”

Aofil reaches over and hands the towel to Sans along with a befuddle look.

“it saves on buying bottles and it still gets the job done. feel for yourself.”

Aofil drags their finger on the metal hand rail. To their surprise it’s like dragging through fine silk. “I’ll be damned.”

“why are you here, by the way?” Sans asks after having shortcutted to the downstairs sofa. The small gust from his magic wakes Muffin up, and he looks around confused as his snack has up and gone. Aofil gives him a tickle behind his temple again before he catches scent of Sans again and decides to dive bomb from the top of the stairs.

“Alphys told me Papyrus had her spider translator.” Aofil keeps rubbing on the hand rail. It’s so soft, they don’t want to stop. “I need to ask Muffin some question which is why I need it.”

“what kind of questions?”

“Those kind that you ask,” Aofil replies with snark. Maybe they can bait something out of Sans while they’re at it. “Or do you monsters have other forms of questions?”

“oh yeah, plenty.” Sans nods after boring his finger against the side of his skull. “but i seem to have misheard you there. must’ve been some gunk in my ear, but to me it sounded like you didn’t answer my question at all. weird, isn’t it?”

“Maybe you should use your dripping sarcasm as a washing up for your shirt there, Sans?” Aofil shoots over a proud smile. “I just want to ask Muffin about some stuff, that’s all.”

“oh!” Sans winks. How he does it still sits weird with Aofil. “i see. some questions about a certain other spider, perhaps? maybe her favorite kinds of flowers?”

Oh for God’s sake! “You too with this?”

“i can suggests some arachnodisiacs.”

No. Just no. “No.” No. Stop. “Stop, Sans.”

Where the hell did Papyrus go?

“DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE COLOR YOU WANT YOUR INGRESS TO BE, AOFIL?”

Aofil leans over the wooden railing. They’re met with Papyrus knocking on a door in his arms. A variety of buckets filled with an equally varied selection of paints dangle haphazardly above the white carpet underneath him. “My what?” Aofil asks carefully as to not prompt a reaction big enough that would cause some stained spillage.

“YOUR DOOR! WHAT DO YOU WANT IT TO BE? PINK, LIKE YOUR CHEEKS? RED LIKE YOUR EYES?”

“don’t we have enough doors, pap? one for the front lawn hammock, and one for the back lawn hammock.”

“EXACTLY!” Papyrus turns around, swinging the door wide with him, as well as the buckets. Aofil feels their breath stop as they watch the liquid stop but an inch away from the rim. “ONE DOOR FOR YOU, AND ONE FOR ME! WE DON’T HAVE ONES FOR OUR FRIENDS TO USE! HOW CAN WE EXPECT THEM TO FEEL WELCOME IF THEY DON’T HAVE THEIR OWN DOOR TO BE WELCOMED INTO?”

Sans shoots a glance up to Aofil, who joins him in a bemused shrug. They should probably drag him off this idea before the entire house gets covered in doors. “But wouldn’t I feel more welcomed if you granted me the use of your own means of ingress?”

“YOU HAD TO KNOCK THOUGH, AOFIL!” Papyrus reminds with an upraised finger. The door tilts down to the side from him letting go of it, and Aofil again watches in horror as the paints flows up to the rims of their respective buckets.

“Yes, but that was my choice. I have a red soul, so if I start off with being polite I help you be more polite in return.”

Papyrus’ face freezes. He blinks. “AOFIL...”

Aofil can do nothing but silently scream as they see the doors and buckets slid out of Papyrus’ stunned mittens.

“YOU ARE MORE OF A FRIEND THAN I COULD EVER BE!”

The door bounces with a heavy thud, missing Papyrus’ toes just barely. Aofil snaps their eyes to the carpet, steeling themselves for the abstract masterpiece about to unfold, yet it remains as white as the fur on their arm, albeit with more door. The strands on the carpet sway as a panicked wind runs through it. Papyrus’ sewn face on the carpet moves like disturbed water. The sound of the leather sofa being depressed has Aofil breathing out with relief in stark contrast to Sans’ sharp breathing holding the buckets awkwardly in his arms.

“That’s good, Papyrus,” Aofil says after letting themselves calm down a bit. “But you know that you’re the best one.”

“THAT IS TRUE, AOFIL!” Papyrus steps one foot up on the knocked over door. “HOWEVER, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, CAN NOT BE FRIENDS WITH MYSELF! THAT WOULD BE UNFAIR TO THE REST!”

Finally his logic makes sense, a bit at least.

“By the way,” Aofil remembers after bumping their foot into Muffin as they push away from gripping the railing with all their scared might. “The spider translator you borrowed from Alphys?”

“YES! I WILL FETCH IT! TELL ALPHYS THAT IT WORKS WONDERS, BUT THAT I’LL STICK TO CLEANING ON MY OWN!” He disappears underneath the second floor again. “IT TAKES TOO MANY TO HOLD JUST ONE MOP!”

“No, Muffin.” Aofil sweeps Muffin back with their leg. “Those are Papyrus’ spiders, they’re not for you to eat.”

The translator sits strangely in Aofil’s hand. They imagined it more as a collar of sorts, not really a speaker shaped like a spider. A small nibble at the back of their head say that the really should’ve guesses that it would be like this, to be honest. The bigger nibble on their leg will soon say his as well, and hopefully it will be something about Frisk’s birthday.

Once home again, Aofil puts the translator to use. They give Muffin some food and water so that’s hes more talkative. Or at least, that’s what Aofil is guessing, no, hoping. 

“JUST TAP IT ON WHICHEVER SPIDER YOU WANT TRANSLATED AND HOLD IT AGAINST ITS HEAD!” Papyrus instructed, so Aofil does just that. Their first attempt is met with an open mouth, but a quick hush from Aofil has Muffin closing it again.

The speaker sparks to life as it touches the rough skin of Muffin. After a second or so, loud panting emerges from it.

Nice, seems to be working.

“Muffin.”

The speaker goes quiet. Guess Aofil caught Muffin’s attention.

“What is Muffet baking for in the Underground?”

“Blerf! Spru! Rarghl! Prrtf blugr!”

Aofil blinks.

“Raigguihu! Blatehezu, guayhju! Blpp-”

Aofil removes the speaker.

They blink again.

“What else did you expect?”


	8. Life over tea

“Your pen.” Asriel spins the spider web etched pen between his fingers just outside the kitchen window. “Thought you might want it back.”

With an inviting wave, Aofil motions for Asriel to enter. “Didn’t have to give it back right now.” They send Muffin on his way by throwing a dog toy into the living room. It bounces with a few squeaks which are followed by a very loud and painful one as Muffin catches it. “And judging by your contemplative posture that’s not why you’re here for.”

“I know.” Asriel flicks the pen onto the kitchen table. “It was a better excuse than the one Frisk gave to me though.”

“About wha-”

“Just...” Asriel puts up his hand for Aofil to stop, “don’t. I know Frisk have talked to you about their birthday.”

Oh... Well, Aofil tried. “Just you?”

“Well,” Asriel takes a seat, “it’s was kinda obvious that they would talk to you about it. We all knew, but we didn’t know exactly, you know?”

Aofil takes a seat as well to get more blood into their head to process that sentence.

“I mean, who else would they talk to?” Asriel poses while stretching his arms out sideways. He throws one arm back towards Aofil. “You’re you, the closest Frisk has to a human parent.”

Woah! “Alright there.” Aofil coughs up some uncomfortable chuckles. “Let’s,” their head cocks involuntarily to the side, “let’s calm down a bit now here.”

“I said closest. All the way across five countries is still closer than ten countries,” Asriel explains while motioning over the horizon. “I’m not saying that you are like a parent to Frisk, just the closest human one.”

“Still,” is also what Aofil wishes their racing heart would be now. “Not again, please.” This might’ve taken a couple of years off their life. God damn…

“Here’s the thing,” Asriel leans back into his chair with his arms folded, “we all know that Frisk knows, and we also all know that they’ve talked to you. It’s Frisk, keeping a secret from them is pretty difficult since, you know, they’re Frisk.”

Got a point there.

“So,” Asriel continues with a small twirl of his wrist, “we all know in our soul that they know, but we don’t in our head since we haven’t asked them about it. Us monsters being made out of our soul and all that, yadda, yadda, yadda.” He points a finger on himself. “I know my sibling,” he moves the finger over to Aofil, “and they have talked to you about their eighteenth birthday.”

“And what if they haven’t done that?” Aofil proposes carefully.

“Then you’re a liar,” Asriel answers with a shrug. “Simple as that.”

“Fine, fine.” Aofil throws their hands up. “Guess the jig is up. What is it to you then? Surprise ruined?”

“Oh no, not at all. Like I said, I’ve always known. Mom and dad are also probably gonna ask you to be a part of the celebration, just a heads up.”

Aofil is struck by a thought that furrows their brow. “Is it egoistic of me that I kinda already knew that I was invited.” They scoff. “Could be you..” They immediately regret lifting their hand to point at their patch of fur. “Sorry.”

Asriel is forced to close his eyes and exhale deep. “It’s fine,” he says while lifting his eyebrows as his eyes stay closed. He smacks his lips before opening his eyes again. “Anyways, not as a guest as usual, but to help out with the party.”

“Sure,” Aofil feels that they have to make up for that blunder. “Should be fun. Always a treat to see what the gang decides to cook up. If they want my help as well I’m guessing it’s gonna be a pretty big one.”

“It’s gonna be in the Underground.”

Oh…Oh. Oh! “Why?”

Asriel blows his lips while heaving a heavy shrug. “As if I know. Well, I do, but it doesn’t make me less conflicted about it. I don’t know know as I now know you knowing that Frisk knows, but I know in my soul that it’s gonna be in the Underground.”

Aofil might need to hang upside down to get enough blood now.

“I’ve been around monsters enough to know that feeling conflicted is as common as any other emotion.” Aofil points to their kettle. “Tea, by the way?”

Asriel nods. “Golden Flower, if you have.”

“As if your father would let me run out.” Aofil’s chuckles is mirrored by Asriel. It could be his part in Aofil’s soul, but it feels really good seeing Asriel smile every once in a while. “Kettle,” they address after a whistle. “Two cups, please. Golden Flower.”

Asriel keeps his head turned while the kettle waltzes carefully over to the faucet. It can’t quite reach the handle, and almost stumbles into the sink as it stretches itself out to reach it. After some help from a couple of utensils it finally manages to get some water into itself. With two long steps it gently saunters over to the flower painted jar and scoops a couple of helpings. Finally it sits down on the stove, which turns on after a couple of electric flickers for the gas.

Asriel turns back around. “How long did it take for you to get used to this?” he asks curiously before turning back around. “Will the cups also have legs?”

“Only if I ask specifically when it comes to utensils and such,” Aofil answers. “One of the few things I’ve managed to slip by Undyne to Alphys about. The forks and knives had a tendency to wrap their legs around my wrist so that I wouldn’t drop them. Problem was that the mere act scared me enough to drop them. You don’t have any at your place?”

Asriel shakes his head as he observes the kettle appearing to have some small talk with the toaster. Its lid flaps as if laughing, causing steam to puff out of it like smoke signals. “No, we don’t. Pretty sure Alphys never dared to ask. We have a dish washer though so it isn’t too bad.”

“Still not entirely sure if they have emotions or not,” Aofil has to say. “Alphys says no, but as you saw earlier.” Aofil stamps the floor a couple of times. “Sometimes I do wonder how stretched that truth is. Any mention of it is like a hurried summon of Undyne, so much so that I’m almost surprised that she hasn’t burst through a window by now.”

“I heard she did that the first time you met them. Chased you down Mt. Ebott and then climbed inside.”

Aofil nods with a nostalgic smile. “Lots of things have happened in the shadow of that damn mountain.” It drains a bit as time unfolds in their mind. “Lots of...things.” It eventually sends a shiver up Aofil’s spine that forces them to squirm in their chair to get rid of it. “How’s your mental image of it, Asriel?”

The kettle whistles behind Asriel, and he turns around. The kettle presents its handle, and Asriel looks back to Aofil with a perplexed expression. Aofil nods, and Asriel takes the kettle carefully off the stove plate. He also takes the two cups handed to him by some of Aofil’s cutlery.

“Before Chara fell I only saw the inside of Ebott,” Asriel begins as he pours some tea for himself and Aofil. He hands Aofil their cup, and takes a biscuit presented to him. He halts it an inch from his lips as he spots Aofil’s furrowed expression. “What is it?”

Aofil tilts their biscuit around. “I don’t remember buying these.” They sample it. “Doesn’t taste like Muffet’s cooking either.”

“Maybe your kitchen baked them?” Asriel offers as an explanation while feeling less hungry for some reason.

“Could be,” Aofil agrees while also putting their biscuit down.

“So yeah.” Asriel rinses his mouth with some tea. “Didn’t get a good look when Chara and I...did our thing. Was also only interested in the Barrier when I was Flowey.”

“But then when you came back?”

“Took me a while before I could muster up the courage to look at it.” Asriel’s gentle sigh has the smoke from his tea dance around. “It was a clear night when I first did. Frisk and I were stargazing on dad’s roof. What was it, a couple of weeks after I came back?”

“Without Toriel’s knowledge?” Aofil hazards as a guess.

Asriel nods, amused. “A lot of things that she doesn’t know, which is for the better. Dad’s not stupid, as I said before.”

Aofil nods to that, despite not recalling the difference between dumb and stupid that Asriel and Frisk explained.

“We had a laptop next to us which we used to check where the constellations and planets were in the sky. That night a comet was passing.” Asriel runs the back of his hand across his eye. “I’d always wanted to see one. I...” His cup starts shaking in his hands. “I promised Chara we would find one together.”

He coughs a pained sob, and immediately protest against it, sucking back the air he coughed out violently. Aofil allows him a moment to compose himself.

“And there I was sitting without them, on the Surface that we promised to get back to together, staring up into the night sky that they talked so much about. It only hit me once I swung that telescope around, and saw the glistening tail arching over the top of Ebott as if it was a halo.”

Asriel stands up with his fist balled hard at his sides. He bends his neck up, but it doesn’t help. Crying, he sinks back into his chair with his head in his hands. He drags one long sob that’s conjoined with a heavy exhale. His palms rub together unnervingly when he removes them, exposing two dark streaks that run down his cheeks. “If Frisk hadn’t been there I would’ve rolled down the roof like a ball of tears and snot.” His scoff sends the remaining tears in his eyes into his tea. He doesn’t notice. “I’m glad I caught a glimpse of the comet though. When Frisk finally calmed me down enough to look at it again it was gone. Just a few sparkles left that disappeared when I dried my drops of tears away from the lens.”

Asriel’s sigh is as shaken as his tea. “Crying like I always do.”

“Sorry if I reminded you,” Aofil offers as an apology. They know they don’t need to, but they also know that Asriel hearing it will make him feel at least somewhat better.

“It’s fine.” Asriel closes his eyes and breathes out carefully after drinking some more tea. “But thanks. It still lingers in my head every time I look at it or it’s mentioned. All the memories of Chara, me, Flowey, you to a degree, Frisk, everything. One nibble I could probably ignore, but it’s like an entire ant colony chittering about inside my head. It’s gone quieter over the years though, which I’m extremely thankful for. Being a prince and all that has kinda replaced it though, so there’s that.”

“Is it really that bad being a prince?” Aofil asks a bit too accusingly. They clear their throat.

“No, it’s not,” Asriel admits while folding his arms on top of each other, and laying his forehead on them. Aofil’s surprised his muzzle isn’t touching the table. Asriel sends a heave of tired into the table. “It’s really not, compared to everything else,” he continues with his head hidden behind a fence of arms. “You already know why though, Aofil, so can I please not repeat myself about this? It’s not really something I want to do right now.”

“Fine. I feel like maybe you should try and see things from the bright side more though. It’s hard though, God knows that I do.” Aofil leans back with their cup firmly inside their palms. “Despite being monster and human, we’re not so different, you and I.”

Asriel lifts his head up with his eyes fixated on Aofil’s arm.

“Besides that.” Aofil rolls their sleeve up so that it covers their patch of fur. “We both had Chara as a sibling, we both spent some time away from the monsters despite them being our family, and we’ve both...well,” Aofil moves their cup up to their mouth, “killed them.”

Their sip is loud.

“Difference being that you saved them, Aofil.”

“You’re the one that didn’t want to bring that up again, Asriel,” Aofil reminds with their pinky finger extended towards him from the cup’s ring. “And you did save them, you know you did. We’ve been over this before, but if we have to again then let’s go over it again.”

Asriel puts his head back down again. “Let’s not, please.”

The silence that’s formed is a bit awkward, both Asriel and Aofil are a bit taken back by this. They didn’t really plan for it to actually be quiet. All that’s audible is the soft whirring of the kettle making small talk with the cutlery on the far side of the table.

“It did get better,” Asriel says after a minute of quiet, still with his forehead resting on his arms. “The more I came to terms with being alive, being able to feel again, and not flinching and trying to burrow down into the ground every single time a shadow poured over me, the more I could look at Ebott with less of a frown.”

What? What did he say? “Burrow?” He can’t be serious. “You tried to burrow?” Aofil is forced to fight back a smile forming.

Asriel’s arms lift and sink as an embarrassed sigh finds its way through gaps between his arms. “Yes, I did. I hit my muzzle on door frames more times than I could count as well.”

“Scraped your horns as well?” Aofil pries.

“No, when they started to form I was used to being myself again.”

“You might give Asgore a run for his money once they’ve done growing.” Aofil taps the back of their skull. “You gave me some large ones when we fused.”

Asriel lifts his disgusted head up from his arms. “You sound so…not incredibly uncomfortable saying that, Aofil.” He shakes his head. “Why?”

“It’s just so,” Aofil blows their lips, “absurd, thinking back on it all. I don’t know if it’s a good thing, could be that I’m trying to distance myself from it, or that, you know, I’ve given up on making sense of it. It’s not really a human weekend past time to do the things I’ve done, and the absurdity has sorta come into the light now that I’ve come back. I never want to do it again in my entire goddamn life, make no mistake of that, but once your house starts arguing with your neighbor, standing up as it does, you kinda come to realize that shit’s all whack and that the only real thing you can do is scoff and roll your eyes at it. As you said though, it still nibbling at the back of my head constantly.” They swirl the tea in their cup. “One day at a time.”

“Another bullet point to add to the list of our similarities.”

“Friendliness points?” Aofil shoots over with a proud smile.

They get a harsh and furrowed brow back that screams murder.

“Sorry,” Aofil apologizes timidly before drinking some more tea with their eyes lowered.

Again a heavy silence is conjured like a thick blanket, smothering any and all conversation for the time being. Aofil does admit to themselves that they might’ve overstepped a bit there with the friendliness. He seemed so not broody earlier today when he was filming Aofil’s house, so what’s changed during these couple of hours? Him figuring out that Aofil knows about Frisk knowing can’t be this detriment, can it?

Yes, monsters live on love and hope, but it can’t be this prominent.

Maybe Aofil should try and change the subject.

They beckon for their kettle. “More tea?”

“I’m good.”

Aofil shoos the kettle back. “You wouldn’t mind asking Asgore to prepare another batch of Golden Flower tea? I have a friend that’s recently moved in here in Monster City that I’m visiting for some housewarming. Golden Flower tea would be a great gift.”

“I’ll ask him. Do you want me to ask with mom nearby so that she bakes a pie for the occasion?”

Aofil hadn’t even thought of that. Seems a bit manipulative though. On the other hand, Toriel’s pies. “Will you think less of me if I say yes, Asriel?”

He shakes his head. “No, I was the one proposing so I can’t really be mad at you for that, now can I?”

“I mean, you can.”

“Do you want me to?” Asriel challenges with a stern expression.

“No, point taken.”

“Then expect Toriel to ask you about the housewarming next time you see her.”

“I will, thank you.”

Asriel nods while finishing the last of his tea. He puts it down while holding it in both of his hands, slowly tapping one claw against the cup. The kettle takes it as an invitation, and joyfully saunters over to fill his cup. He doesn’t notice until the cup’s half full. “No thanks,” he says with a smile. The kettle cocks its spout up to him, tilting back to catch the drop dangling off the edge. “I’m fine.”

The kettle looks at Aofil for clarification, but Aofil isn’t sure what more it is to be clarified. The kettle looks back at Asriel for a short beat before it fills the rest of his cup quickly and then bolts across the table.

“Definitely emotions,” Asriel states.

“Eyup, that kinda seals the deal for the millionth time.”

Asriel swirls his newly filled cup with a sigh before drinking some. “So yeah, speaking of human parents.”

“I told you that I-”

“Yours, and Chara’s.”

Aofil recoils back. “Oh.” Their brow furrows, hard. “But why?”

Asriel throws his shoulders up into a haphazard shrug. “You didn’t talk about them like Chara did, and it’s been another fresh nibble ever since.”

“Well, Chara and I came from two completely different families despite it being the same.” Aofil leans back with their cup firmly in their hands. “Same parents, yet still not. I’ve nothing but good memories about them.” A dark shadow emerges on their face as their mind screams at them that it is a lie. “Well, when they were alive, that is.”

Asriel looks down into his tea that he didn’t ask for. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Call it my equivalent to you looking at Mt. Ebott, Asriel. Me moving away that day was not all because of you and the other monsters. It had also dug up things about my family. Everything except literally. Same impact as if they were dug up literally though, if not worse.” Aofil sips some tea, the taste and warmth spreading around them and subduing the chill sent out from their spine just a little. “I might visit them soon again. I haven’t done it since you and I did it last time. Gotta tell them I’m back with you monsters, bring them some flowers.”

“Do...” Asriel hates himself for asking. “Is it alright if I follow this time too? I’d...I’d like to ask them a few things about Chara.”

“Don’t ask me this now, Asriel.” Aofil exhales while dragging their hand across their forehead to move away some of their fringe. “Later.”

He nods. “Yes, thank you.”

“It’s fine.”

Again a silence only slightly broken by the kettle and cutlery bouncing joyfully with their knees falls upon the kitchen. The gentle swirling of tea inside a porcelain cup is not enough to completely break it completely, and Asriel cranes his neck back as he sighs heavily.

“There’s this other thing too.”

Aofil looks up from their tea. “Hm?”

“The...reason I went over here.”

The reason? Wasn’t that to inform about Frisk’s birthday? Come to think of it, that kinda just up and disappeared in their conversation, didn’t it? Aofil feels a bit intrigued by this, why did Asriel then come over?

Guess they’re about to find out.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to spar again. Properly, this time.”

Is that a jab at Aofil?

“And by that I don’t mean that we should fight,” Asriel makes clear after a calming motion of his hand. “Not that I can muster the magic to begin with,” he adds under his breath while clenching his fist. “A friendly spar. I have to test something that I felt earlier today. It might just be nothing, and it probably is, but if I have a chance to remove a nibble from the back of my mind, then I’ll take it.”

Aofil sits with their elbow in their palm across their stomach with their cup tapping their lips in thought.

“If that’s alright with you, that is. I have some staffs with me that we can use. Padded.”

“I mean, it’s fine by me. I don’t really know what it is you want to prove by wiping the floor with me again.”

“If I do then that will ease my mind as well. I don’t mean that to be an insult to you, Aofil.” Asriel retracts his outstretched hand timidly. “That’s how it sounded like though.”

Aofil puts down their cup and beckons the kettle over. “Clean up,” they order as they stand up. “I’m just gonna fetch some appropriate clothes first,” they inform Asriel. “Just leave your cup and the kettle should take care of it.”

The kettle nods to Asriel, who smiles. It drains as the thought of why he smiled strikes him. Aofil chuckles. 

“Don’t worry, I felt the same before as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned tomorrow for something very special that I've been cooking on!
> 
> A story set before fallen children, a story before resets and various objects with Mettaton legs.
> 
> A story about two goats on opposite sides of the meadow that is life.
> 
> And how they found each other.


	9. Spurred sparring

“That’s...”

“Yes.” Aofil moves their hands over their yellow and pink colored sport clothes laden with Mikkarama shaped creatures in various states of overly joyed. “It’s the only ones I have which I don’t need to wash. The rest are in the dryer at the moment. Undyne gave them to me in hopes that some of her magic and fighting capability would transfer over to me.”

Asriel looks over across the yard towards Undyne’s house. “So like, hand me downs?”

“That’s what I asked her as well. Did she use these herself before giving them to me? Turns out that no, no she didn’t.”

“They don’t fit.”

“I know.” Aofil nods. “I know.” They take with them the staff Asriel left behind leaning against the house wall. “If I’m lucky, the house jumping around as it did helped the spin cycle rather than outright destroyed it so that this will be the one and only time I wear these.”

Aofil takes position across from Asriel. “So, how do you want to go about this? Pretty sure you’ve managed a bit further in Undyne’s training than I have, so no advanced stuff if you want to keep it fair.”

Asriel bounces the staff in his hands while his mouth pouts from side to side. “How much has she managed to get through to you?”

Aofil’s not sure how to take that. “Is that your or her words?”

“Her words.”

“Right.” Of course she’d say it like that. “Well,” Aofil spins their staff back and forth between their thumb and index finger, being very careful so that it doesn’t drill into their lawn, “I think she’s done the basics, at least. I haven’t really moved along quickly since I’m not as young as you, Asriel, but she’s complimented me once or twice, although if she was being sarcastic when she said that I’m still mulling about.”

Asriel nods. “I see. Maybe if we just start off easy and work our way up, and you’ll tell me when you feel that we’ve reached your skill ceiling?”

Aofil returns the nod. “Sure.” They swipe their foot backwards at an angle to get themselves into position. Almost two full days of doing nothing but that was effective in teaching Aofil that, they have to admit as much. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Hey!” comes a commanding voice from across a couple of houses. “Warm up first, you two! You can’t spar if you’re as stiff as your staffs! Ngah! Haven’t I taught you two anything?”

That’s a very good idea, actually. 

“And keep it clean!” Undyne shouts over as well. “I’ve got places to be now so I can’t judge, but if I come back to Aofil wringing in pain you’re gonna get the worst workout in your life, Asriel! Legs, and the day after a marathon!”

“What if Asriel wrings in pain instead?” Aofil shouts back. “Same punishment with me?”

There’s a silent beat. Aofil amused smile drains into a unamused frown.

“Anyways, good luck you two! First one to stagger is a punk!” Undyne waves before heading inside her house. “Remember! Dirty clothes, clean fighting! Ngahahaha!”

Oh...she’s on thin really ice right now, but that’s for later. 

With a sigh, Aofil begins stretching, pulling their arms behind their head, one after the other. There’s some gentle popping from their elbows and shoulders, but that’s just another sign that warming up is a good idea. 

Asriel begins with his legs, squatting down on one leg while stretching his other to the side. His white fur bob as gently as Aofil’s does as he stretches. Side to side, up and down, frontside turn to backside turn.

He even does some push ups and sit ups, so Aofil has to as well. He manages them a bit quicker than Aofil, which does little to help their ego. They never thought they could keep up with him, but seeing it still reminds them that they’re not as in good a shape as they...well, they never were in good shape either…

Aofil does the rest of their warming up with a determined scowl summoned by their own shattered hubris in pieces like a porcelain jar being dropped from an airplane.

“You done?” Asriel asks while pulling his ankle up behind him. “Or do you need another minute or so?”

Geez! Aofil’s not that old! Just...a bit. It’s not like they have white hairs on their arm because they’re old. “Yes, just need to do my other leg and I should be done.”

“Same here.”

Once finished, Asriel kicks up his staff into his hands. His grip on it hardens as he finds the right distance between his hands, and he swipes his foot like Aofil did to get into the proper position. His posture lowers, bringing his center of gravity closer to the ground. One of his hands grips the staff over, and the other under, a shoulder’s width between the two. His knees gently rock up and down along with his calm breathing, lifting Undyne’s grinning facade on his tank top, and exposing a tuft of fur peeking over where the neck of his fabric ends. His brow is furrowed with complete focus, and the lips on his muzzle just barely expose the rows of teeth behind.

Aofil tugs a smile. “Yeah, you definitely know more than me.”

Their smile is quickly washed away as Asriel takes speed towards Aofil, the center of his staff taking strain against his shoulder. It’s obvious where and how he’s gonna strike, and Aofil puts their staff up vertical to block the wide swing. They take a step aside away when they see Asriel’s arms start to move, and the two wooden poles clash into each other with a loud whack.

Oh boy, he’s serious.

Aofil follows with the impact, stepping back to displace the energy. When they feel they can stand against it they dig their heel in, letting the energy out into the ground below, away from their body. They take a glance down as Asriel pulls back, and pout a bit as they see the muddied grass and small hole their heel did. 

Are they ever gonna have a proper lawn with everything that keeps happening? Maybe Asgore can suggest some-

They don’t get a lot of time to languish, as Asriel again swings his staff across. Aofil again blocks it, but this time they take a step forward before Asriel’s weight and momentum can plant itself into the block. His staff slides off, and he stumbles a few steps before managing to correct himself by using his staff as a crutch. Aofil allows themselves a brief moment of pride for managing that technique.

Aofil’s pout deepens as they see Asriel’s staff burrow into the ground. He pulls it out, dragging with him some black dirt.

He rolls his shoulder before readjusting his grip, this time with both hands gripping over the staff. He spins around, pushing the width of the staff against Aofil. They just barely manage to awkwardly put their staff between them and Asriel’s, and their knuckles bump against Asriel’s. After pushing away, Aofil shakes the pain off their hands one by one.

“You alright?” Asriel asks while stepping back.

“I’m fine,” Aofil blows on their right hand. “just lost focus, that’s all,” and then on their left hand.

Asriel nods. “Good.”

He returns back to the opposite side of Aofil’s lawn while using his staff as a walking stick. It’s not enough to uproot the grass which Aofil is thankful for. Once across from Aofil, Asriel takes a moment first to scratch his horns with his staff before gripping over and under again. “I’m gonna do a double swing now.”

Aofil bounces up on their toes. They’re gonna have to be flexible for this one.

Asriel again makes very short work of the distance between the two. He lays on Aofil’s side again with his staff, throwing it down at an angle. Aofil counters the blow, but before they can leverage the momentum Asriel shifts his body around, attacking against Aofil’s other side. The clack is like a very loud smack of the tongue as Aofil, in the absolute last second, moves their staff over to block the flanking strike.

Their arms are bent in an awkward angle, and they’re forced to strain their tendons instead of their muscles. They can only hold the block for a second before having to break away and pull their staff in towards themselves. Asriel follows through his strike, pushing Aofil away.

They clumsily shuffle away bent over with their arms outstretched should they fall. Aofil manages just barely to regain their balance, and they stretch their back out through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, I thought you’d be able to block it.” Asriel says. “You want me to show how to shift your arms?”

“Yeah, sure.” Aofil press their hands up against their lower back. “Just give me a second here.” It doesn’t feel like they’ve injured themselves, which is good.

Asriel again strikes at Aofil’s side, but slowly. “You feel how your arms feel sturdy?” He pushes inwards with his staff. “That it goes into your shoulder and through your torso?”

Aofil nods.

“But when I move over here, and you follow like you do, your arm bends so that the impact pushes your shoulder back instead. See?”

Yeah, Aofil can feel that.

“While you move your staff, change grip. Let’s give it a try.”

Again slowly, Asriel strikes on one side, and then the other. Aofil follows along, switching the grip on their closest arm from an under to an over. They feel the hit plant itself more naturally into their body, spreading across their entire torso instead of just pushing back their shoulder and stretching it out to the point of hurting. “I think I got it.”

“Right.” Asriel again walks a couple of steps away. “Ready?”

Aofil nods. “Ready.”

Strike on one side, switch over, under to over grip, block the flanking strike, push away, exploit…No, not yet. Later.

“You wanna be on the offensive now, Aofil?” Asriel asks after resetting his position. “Has Undyne taught you the Punk Buster?”

“I...think so.” Undyne didn’t call it exactly that, but it should be the same. Aofil studies Asriel’s posture before they attack. He seems to be keeping his posture a bit higher than before. Maybe to be more flexible in his blocking? Aofil grips their staff.

Only one way to find out.

“Start off with swinging against the side he’s put the least weight on, make him question his own decision. If it hits, good, you got him! Ngah! If he blocks, move over to the other side. He should be busy shifting his weight to where you struck first so having to change back while his momentum is busy is gonna be real annoying for him. Again, if you hit him, great! If he somehow manages to block again, before he can settle into it and get comfy and believe that everything’s right in the world, take a step into him, really get up close like you’re gonna kiss him! Ngahahaha! Wiggle your eyebrows if you have to, do everything to open up even the slightest of opportunities. If you can, place the foot you step into with behind his, and then!”

Asriel falls flat on his back with a cough. He kept his chin up to not injure his head though. That was the first thing Undyne taught Aofil, so they’re not surprised that Asriel knew it. That he didn’t know about the Punk Buster despite him asking for it is a bit strange though.

“What was that?” he asks as he sits up before coughing away the last of his fall.

“It was the Punk Buster,” Aofil explains as they offer their hand.

Asriel takes it. “The Punk Buster doesn’t feature a tackle. It’s a side to side strikes followed by a grapple.”

Is it? “Is it? Undyne...Oh...Sorry.” Aofil clears their throat. “That was the Punk Fluster I did.”

“Fluster?” Asriel’s furrowed and slightly confused expression ask.

“Up close with your shoulder, face, everything. She even said that I should wiggle my eyebrows lustfully if I could to put my opponent off balance.”

Asriel’s not sure how to react to that.

“I had the same look as you when she first said it to me too.” Aofil looks over their shoulder into the house. Muffin is sitting curiously in the open window with his tongue hanging out surrounded by various appliances equally curious. “Some water for us, please.” Aofil asks. Muffin seems even more curious about the appliances jumping off him, and he follows them down from the window.

“It’s pretty hot,” Aofil explains. “Gotta re hydrate even if we’re not Undyne.”

Asriel follows Aofil over to the patio. “I can go for some water, thanks.” He seats himself in a chair folding itself open for him next to Aofil, after a second or two’s hesitation. He taps his staff down on the cement floor as he thinks.

Aofil hands over a tall glass to Asriel from the two their toaster brings out. “The thing you wanted to test? You got it yet?”

Asriel holds the glass down so that the kettle can fill it with ice cold water containing some slices of cucumber and lemon. There’s a hint of Golden Flower as well, and the water refreshes enormously.

“No,” he informs after a comforting exhale. “Not yet. There’s a few more things I have to test, sorry.”

Aofil sends over a friendly smile. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. I can do so more sparring. Just need to drink some water and take a short breather. What is it you want to test, by the way?”

Asriel glances over to his hand that he flexes a couple of time before hiding it on his side facing away from Aofil.

Oh, his magic. Right, what Undyne suggested before, that Aofil and Asriel should spar. Maybe he’ll be able to get it this time now. He’s probably gonna suggest taking it up a notch, but Aofil should be able to handle at least one higher notch. They know at least one technique Asriel don’t, so if sparring push comes to sparring shove they might be able to counter at least a little. Should be enough to give the Boss Monster some resistance. Perhaps enough that his magic finally loosens up for him?

Aofil is a bit curious as to what kind of magic he’ll develop. He knows some fire magic since Aofil did some when Asriel fused with them.

Or perhaps it as their own magic?

“Did I hit your arm?” Asriel asks concernedly. “Why is it shaking like that? Your face is red too.”

“Oh.” Aofil waves their arm loose. “Just shaking it awake for it to not become stiff,” they lie with a plastered smile.

No, it wasn’t their own magic.

So, fire. Maybe some healing as well. Frisk explained something about swords, stars, rainbow launcher, and then something about him spinning his head around. Of all of that the latter part is what Aofil has some hesitation towards believing. Magic? That’s fine with them now after all they’ve seen. Spinning his head around without it hurting? Nah, that’s where the line is drawn. The monsters might be made out of magic, but they’re still hampered by the laws of physics.

Or laws of magic, as they called it during that time.

And Asriel spinning his head around without it snapping by the neck is against any form of law.

“You ready now?”

Aofil is knocked out of their thought. “Hm? Ready? Yeah, you wanna go again?”

“Yeah,” Asriel pushes himself up from his chair. He grabs his staff in the process, and stretches out his arms again behind his neck.

Aofil follows suit.

“Sorry, by the way.”

“Sorry for what?” Aofil asks as they turn around. The answer comes in the form of an overhead strike that Aofil just barely manages to block with their staff. Asriel’s not giving way either.

Something is-

Asriel slides his staff off Aofil’s, and follows through the momentum by spinning around and planting his foot into Aofil’s leg. They fall over, but the pain from it doesn’t get through to them. They immediately throw up their staff to glance off Asriel thrusting his staff down. The counter knocks the staff out of Asriel’s hand, and it bounces a couple of times before resting itself at the base of Aofil’s fence. Aofil then puts their staff horizontal against Asriel’s shoulders, and push him off.

“The hell are you doing, Asriel!”

He doesn’t answer, instead he leans back to grab the staff and follow through with rolling down on his back to either steal the staff away from Aofil or bring them down with him should they keep a grip on it. Aofil responds by shifting their staff vertically, leaving Asriel to grab naught but air. They tilt it so it doesn’t hit his face, and instead push away on his collar.

Asriel backs off, clutching his collar with his hand.

Aofil doesn’t follow through, their mind is occupied. It’s flooded, and is slowly draining. Images of themselves from another perspective. Thoughts of attacking themselves, and with what technique. Aofil clutches their temple.

Did they-

Their mind is flooded again. They see themselves hunched over with their hand against their head. They hear thoughts about how to strike themselves. It’s filled with intent, intent to...hurt. Intent to-

Aofil takes a sturdy step into Asriel’s path, lodging their shoulder deep into his stomach left exposed from him preparing another overhead strike. He crashes down hard on the ground, coughing violently. Aofil picks up his staff, and throws it as far away as they can.

The thoughts in their head start to fade, but some of it still linger. Thoughts of confusion, thoughts of fear. 

“It can’t be real!” they hear Asriel scream in their head. “No! It just can’t!”

And afterwards pain. Aofil bends over and coughs the same way Asriel did. Their stomach doesn’t hurt, but they still feel pain from it in their head.

Amid Asriel coughing from Aofil’s tackle there emerges some laughs from him as well. Pained laughs, cobbled together with him coughing. The mixture is a pain to listen to. 

“I knew it.”

Asriel takes a greedy breath before trying to push himself up. He collapses again with a hurtful grunt. 

“I knew it,” he repeats, quietly. “Of fucking course it’s like this. As if I could catch a goddamn break.”

With even more effort he pulls himself up so that he’s sitting with his back resting against Aofil’s fence. He grits his teeth as he sighs.

“Why did you attack me like that, Asriel?”

He chuckles to himself, and bends slightly over to steel himself against the pain of it. “You didn’t feel the reason?”

Aofil’s eyes widen. He knows Aofil felt it? H-how? What’s happening?

“Intent to hurt.” Asriel glances over to his staff laying way out of arm’s reach for him. “Makes a soul light up like lighting from a clear sky.”

“Did you really?”

“You felt it, didn’t you?”

What the hell is he doing? “Why?”

“Had to test.” Asriel draws a long inhale. He test to see if moving hurts, and it does a little. “Your soul is determined, Aofil.”

“Don’t fucking use that word, Asriel. Nothing good has ever come out of that word!”

“Frisk saved us monsters because of theirs.”

Aofil throws their hand down. “That’s their determination! Mine has never done anything good. Mine and-” Aofil throws their own staff away. “Dammit!”

“No, not theirs. Not Chara’s.”

Asriel puts his hand over his chest that he squeezes hard.

“Asriel,” Aofil throws a harsh point, “don’t!”

But it’s too late. In Asriel’s hand shimmers a white upside down heart. It bobs gently up and down in a slow rhythm.

“Asriel, put it back,” Aofil commands.

“You wanna know the reason why I came over?”

“No.” Aofil shakes their head hard. “I don’t want to if it involves you pulling out your soul like this.”

“When you commanded your house to sit down again earlier today, I felt myself.”

“You know why, Asriel.”

He shakes his head carefully. “It’s not because of my soul in yours. It’s too weak to be felt through your human soul, remember?” 

Aofil takes a step back. No… “Asriel, what are you implying exactly?”

“That the reason that I found another wrinkle on dad’s face isn’t because I am alive.” Asriel’s grip hardens on his soul. He recoils from it, but his hand stays wrapped tightly around it. “Tha-” He grunts loudly. “That the reason they’re getting older isn’t because I am alive! It’s because you are, Aofil.”

The white heart starts quaking as Asriel burrows his long nails into it. “It’s becau-” His entire body wrings from the pain.

Aofil runs over. They have to stop him. He can’t be-

The white soul cracks.

Aofil freezes. “No...”

Asriel’s hand balls into a fist as tiny shards of white shoot out between his fingers. His head slumps over.

“Asriel!”

His body convulses, and again, and again. Wait... Is he laughing? Crying as well. His neck cranes over the top of the fence. His thick tears run heavily down his cheeks. He takes a long breath through clenched teeth, and exhale it in a cough.

“I lied to everyone. Lied to them so much when I was in the Underground. Lied about who I was, what I was, why I was.”

Asriel offers his closed fist to Aofil.

“When I became Asriel I thought the lying was done, but it didn’t stop. If anything, I’ve been lying even more ever since. Especially to myself.”

Aofil’s eyes are locked hard on Asriel’s fist. “What’s in there, Asriel? What is your soul?”

“Not mine.”

He opens it, revealing not but a sliver of red. Like a single strand of crimson yarn it hovers in his palm.

“Yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've also started work on a [ToryGorey origin story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887965/chapters/34478919) that I will be updating parallel to More invited.


	10. Life on a thread

“I’m the owner of this house now. You will obey my commands from now on. All others are rendered null and shall be ignored.”

The kettle turns on its perplexed heels over to Aofil. It opens its flap just a bit before turning back to face Asriel again. It shakes itself, and a fork comes over to tap a couple of times on where the kettle should have its temple should it have a head.

“At least your appliances don’t believe that I’m you,” Asriel sighs out as he follows the kettle walking back to the sink with his eyes. “Silver lining. Better than the red one I got.”

“You’re not me, Asriel.” Aofil feels like they’ve said it a thousand times now. “I’m just as shocked and stunned about this as you are, but you are not me.”

“Monsters are made from their soul. We’re magic made manifest physically, powered by love, compassion, funneled through a catalyst that is our soul. I am my soul, and my soul is me. Or you, in this case. So who am I then, if not you? It’s like if you didn’t have your own DNA. That’s who you are built up from. Your body someone else’s, your brain someone else’s, and your memories someone else’s.”

Asriel is offered a towel in his trying times, as well as some polish. He’s not sure what to make of it. 

“He’s not waxing philosophical,” Aofil informs the borderline sarcastic cup. “Leave us alone for the time being.”

The cup shrugs its handle and jumps down from the table.

“Did Alphys base the personalities on Sans, or something?” Aofil mutters annoyed. “Although, that would have them lift less then a finger, so I guess not.”

A deep and lamenting sigh from Asriel reminds Aofil why they’re here. “Right.” They take a deep and calming breath. “The piece of my soul that you have Asriel, I’ve had it missing for longer than I had it in me. It’s not been mine for years. How it was still there I have no clue. It’s just...I don’t know, it’s been there waiting, I guess. I’ve no idea about all this soul business, and frankly, I don’t want to know anything. I’m not using it, and you are in need of it, so have it. It’s absolutely fine by me. It is not mine, it is yours. It has no connection to me, and I don’t want to hear anything stating otherwise.”

Aofil presents their patch of fur over the table. “It’s a fair trade, after all. Perhaps that’s not enough for you, so maybe we can trade? If you want we can ask Alphys to find a way to switch back? You get your sliver of soul back, and I get the piece inside you. Sounds good?”

“We can’t.” Asriel shakes his head inside his wall of arms. “And that’s not even beginning to think how the hell we’re gonna switch to begin with.” He lifts his head up and places his chin on his folded arms. “Pretty sure I’m only alive because it’s a human sliver of soul that’s inside me. Even a sliver is enough to keep a monster alive, apparently. I mean, we’ve always known to an extent that the difference would be enough, but I guess I’m literally a living proof. Another soul experiment for me to endure.”

“The only important word in what you said was ‘living’, Asriel. That’s the only thing relevant. You’re alive, you’re well, you’re you.” Aofil punctuates by tapping hard on the table with two of their fingers. “We’ll forget about this, pretend it never happened,” they offer with their open palm.

Asriel scoffs, sending his chin bouncing, almost clamping down on his lower lip as it falls down. “Pretend?” He nods. “So like, going on as usual?”

Oh for fuck-

Aofil pinches the bridge on their nose. “That’s not what I meant, Asriel, and you know that.”

“What did you mean by pretend besides pretending, Aofil?” Asriel is very eager to know as his brow sinks down over his eyes. “Pray tell how your human pretend differs from my monster pretend. Or is there even a difference to begin with now that I’m a monster with a human soul. No, not now, from when I came back. I didn’t even come back now, did I?” Asriel throws a vicious nod towards Aofil with eyes peering through anger and confusion. “I just materialized. I’m nothing of Asriel. I’m just an imitation, a mirage of what he was. I don’t even have the part of Flowey that was left from Asriel! That’s in you, Aofil! You’re more Asriel than I am!”

“Asriel-”

“No!” Asriel slams his hands down and pushes himself up on his feet. The chair falls over behind him, but is caught by the toaster making a heroic leap down from the counter. “I’m not Asriel! I’m not even Flowey! Mom and dad...Toriel and Asgore are growing older because of Asriel’s fragment inside you, Aofil. Not because their son is alive, not because he came back. I’m here, yes, but I’m not Asriel. I’m not the son that died in their hands. I’m not the scared child that broke the barrier.”

“Asriel, sit down.”

Asriel’s muzzle shakes, and it’s not long before his entire body shakes as well. His eyes starts watering. “I’m not even the one Frisk hugged...but I remember them hugging me. I remember their hands rubbing my back. All of the fear Flowey had, all of the fear Asriel had, for one moment, it was gone. I hugged Frisk back, I cried on their shoulder. For just a short moment I felt like things were alright with the world. For just a short while I couldn’t feel the weight of Mt. Ebott pushing down on me.”

“Asriel.” Aofil motions very carefully for his chair that the toaster is propping upright. “Sit down.”

“I’ve been living like him. I’ve taken his place, hidden my true soul underneath an illusion. That’s the only magic I’m capable of. Pretending. Lying. I’ve lived a life that’s not mine, and been the prince that died. It’s like that book.”

“Which one?”

“I woke up human. Except reversed. I woke up a monster, but I’m a human, a sliver of one, and instead of being tossed out and vilified, I’ve been welcomed in with opened arms into a family that loves me.”

Asriel’s hand balls into a fist, clenching harder than anything Aofil’s seen before. “But it’s a lie.” He slams his fist on his chest. “It’s all a lie that I’ve told everyone! It’s a lie I’ve told myself!” He lifts his fist over his hand. “My entire life is a lie!”

The table cracks in two.

Aofil flies out of their chair. “Sit down, Asriel!” they shout at the top of their voice. He’s gone too far now! “If you really believe that you are me then you’ll obey me because I have the overwhelmingly vast majority of my soul inside of me. I’m also a human! So if you really truly believe all of the fucking bullshit you’ve said so far you’ll sit down and calm down because I told you so! Keep standing, and you’ve smashed my table for nothing! Less than nothing, even! It would have been for nothing even if you were me because then why would I smash my own furniture that I still need to use today, and also all the following tomorrows?”

Asriel lowers his head as thick tears run down his cheeks. His fist is quivering from the impact, but it’s slowly releasing. His throat is clogged with all of things he want to say, all of the things he want to scream, but he can’t say nor scream any of them. He’s just...He’s too…

He lands hard into the chair propped up by the toaster. His head disappears inside his hands, and drops fall from between his fingers. The cup lays the towel underneath his head on the broken table.

“At least I cry like him...”

Aofil sits hard back down too as they drag their palms down their face.

Everything with this. Just so damn...everything. Why does he keep on like this? He was fine just a couple of hours ago, talked with Aofil normally. Now again with these unearthed mountains of revelations that just keep on coming. Another to add to the mountain range spanning miles upon miles, raising far above the clouds. 

Are they gonna have to explain to Toriel and Asgore that, not only does Aofil have a sliver of Asriel’s soul, but Asriel has a sliver of Aofil’s as well, and because of that he’s just a creation spawn not from them, but from...some other form of magic?

And Asriel.

Aofil glances over to him, head lodged deep inside his hands, muzzle dragging back with each pained sharp inhale, exhaling equally as sharp, and with perhaps more pain. They let him cry for a bit. It sounds like he needs it. 

Does it really mean that much to him about his soul? Does it for all of monsterkind? Aofil knew it was important, they remember the book Toriel gave them to teach from all those years ago. They also remember their own being the same as Chara’s, the Soul Extractor, the fusion, both theirs with Asriel’s soul, and Chara’s with Asriel’s soul. Their patch of fur, and all of the trouble it gave them.

That was supposed to be behind them though. That was supposed to have been cleaned off their slate once they talked with the monsters about it all. Confessed their soul for it to be cleansed of the past.

But yet again with this damn mess! Again with this soul business coming back to kick Aofil in the head. They had just started to get it under control, and now it’s flourishing like their cheeks did before. It’s literally crying out in front of them. How many more dark secrets are gonna be unearthed? How many more can there even be? Why can’t magic and monsters just be normal?

Guess they answered their own question by stating it…

But here it all is. All of the magic, all of the monster, mixed together like a badly tightened ball of yarn after an hour in the centrifuge, and Aofil needs to untangle it.

Again.

“Asriel,” Aofil blows their lips tiredly, “I’m gonna ask you a couple of questions now. You’re gonna have to answer them. I’m sorry, but you have to.”

“Just...” Asriel coughs a sob. “Just give me a couple of seconds.”

Aofil nods. “Of course.”

It takes closer to a couple of minutes before Asriel manages to get himself under enough control to speak. He accepts the paper towels handed to him by the cup, and he blows his nose a few times before feeling that he can breath through it again. He takes a big and long inhale as he swipes the tears away from his eyes. He exhales calmly, but there’s still some crying left in his voice. “Alright, ask me.”

“You ready?” Aofil makes doubly sure. “Take a few more minutes if you want.”

“No.” Asriel rubs his face in an attempt to wake him up further. “I need to do this, I need to grab it by the horns. Treat it while it’s fresh, otherwise it’ll get infected, as it always does. Frisk has been beating it into me for a while now, and I’d be lying to them if I don’t take it to...” his hands slowly glide down his cheeks, “...soul.”

Asriel ears flop violently as he shakes his head hard with a focused scowl flourishing on his face. “No! I can lie to myself, but not to Frisk. Not them, they’re the only anchor I have.”

“They’re a good kid, and so are you, Asriel.”

He nods, “Thanks,” and collects himself as best as he can. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

Aofil lets a silent beat pass to make sure Asriel’s comfortable with it. He’s obviously not, but he’s doing his damnedest to subdue it as best as he can.

They’re forced to shake the thought of them taking credit for Asriel’s bravery because he has their soul inside him. They clear their throat. “What do actually think? Really, what is it you’re feeling? Be honest, please be honest, because otherwise we won’t get anywhere.”

Asriel drags a few more quiet sobs before leaning his chin on his balled together fists. “I...I don’t know...I don’t feel any different, and it feels weird that I don’t. I’m not sure how to describe it.”

“Like, physically? Mentally? Both?”

“Both, I think.” Asriel scoffs a feigned chuckle. “Guess I now know why I can’t do any magic. It’s not really that I’ve changed or anything. I’ve had your soul for as long as I’ve lived, so why would me figuring it out be any different? It’s not magically gonna give me magic, is it? You didn’t know any magic before it broke off you, so why would I know any?”

“Sorry,” Aofil offers. “Only dad knew any form of magic. Guess it skips a generation. Or at least, that’s what I think it was. The only words I have of him saying that is when I was almost dying, so who knows how true that is actually. I guess I have that builder’s word for it too, and the pastor’s.” Aofil scratches the side of their neck. “So yeah, it skips a generation, apparently.” Wait a second… “You do know some magic though, right? Last time we sparred at Undyne’s house you managed some fire.”

“Yeah...” Asriel puts out his arms with his fingers flexed inwards. He tenses his entire body, but all that’s created is a tiny flame not bigger than a lighter’s. It fades away almost immediately, and Asriel bends over with his arms as support on his legs as he recuperates by breathing heavily. “Compare that to MK driving a car with his magic.”

“Nothing you can improve upon?”

Asriel’s brow sinks angrily for a brief moment before he relaxes them. “No, and I’ve tried and given it my all ever since it first manifested which was shortly after you left.”

“Has it become any stronger since I came back?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

Aofil drums their fingers on their legs as they think. Maybe if… “Maybe if I learn some magic myself? Could that transfer over to you?”

“That...I don’t know.”

“Does anyone know?” Aofil shoots back. “Like you said, this hasn’t happened before. Shouldn’t I be able to learn magic since I have a piece of a monster soul inside me?”

Asriel doesn’t answer. His mouth hangs half open as he thinks, his lips curling back and forth the slightest as he does. Finally his brows sink contemplatively. “Maybe? I’ve no idea.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“That’s kinda what I’m afraid of, actually. If you learning magic means that the bond between you and your soul increases, like it does us monsters, then wouldn’t that mean that the bond between you and me would grow stronger as well?”

Aofil wags their finger at Asriel while their own brow sink. “Good point. I didn’t really enjoy having your thoughts in my head before. No offense.”

“Maybe we should ask Alphys about it?” Asriel proposes halfheartedly. “She knows herself some soul, doesn’t she.”

“You feeling resentment against her for Flowey?”

Asriel shoots a vicious look over to Aofil that’s way beyond needing a soul bond to be felt. “No, I’m not. That’s Flowey, not me.”

Right, Flowey is in Aofil still. “Gotcha. I hadn’t asked before, but I know now. We’ll have to approach carefully though if we’re to ask her. She’s still haunted by what she did. I figured as much when I asked her to run some tests on, well,” Aofil lifts their arm with their fur, “you, and there are only a few more instances where I would describe something as dark as the shadow that fell over her face when I asked her that favor. She did the tests, probably because of the same reasons as you said. Need to treat the wounds and all.”

“I need to word it properly for my parents as well.” Asriel closes his eyes and shakes his head silently. “And I also guess that I’ve decided that I am Asriel after all since I called them my parents instead of Toriel and Asgore. Tell a lie enough and it becomes truth, it seems.”

“Don’t have to call it a lie to begin with,” Aofil retorts. “It could just be me not knowing anything about souls and magic and such, but you did form when we were fused, so perhaps what was you just jumped ship and traded places? Why don’t we just say that it happened that way? If you’re so dead set on calling this a lie, then let’s tell that one enough times so it also becomes a truth. Would explain why we split, but then again, you could make the argument that I sneezed so hard that we split and it would sound equally as convincing.”

“You tell me.”

Aofil looks through their wall towards the Dreemurr residence. “So you’re planning to tell Toriel and Asgore about it?”

Asriel nods. “Probably for the better. I’ll run it by Frisk first, see what they think.”

“That’s pretty grown up of you,” Aofil feels the need to point out. Very grown up, in fact. “Enough with the secrets?”

“What has secrets done for us, really?” Asriel follows Aofil’s eyes with his own. “Killed Chara, killed me, killed everyone.”

Aofil nods, they’re in agreement there. Better to warn the people around you before you rip the bandage off. Would’ve been better if they’ve learned that lesson a bit earlier, but many things would’ve been better if they’d learned of it earlier.

At least that have the opportunity to learn from their mistakes. Unlike Chara.

“I’m not sure how they’ll react though,” Asriel says through a sigh. “They did take you having the piece of my soul inside you pretty well, but I think that this is gonna be a bit more of a punch in the gut for them.” Asriel swivels his head around to meet Aofil. “I don’t mean it in the sense that I think that you speaking up to them didn’t matter in the slightest to them. It’s just...well, I’m their son.” Asriel looks down at his hands. “Or as close to their son as they can get.”

“You’re always gonna be their son, Asriel. No matter where, who, or why, you came from. It’s Toriel and Asgore, you know your parents.”

Asriel stands up with his arms pushing off his knees. “Guess it’s time for them to know their son, then.” He takes a final glance down on the divided furniture at his feet. “Sorry for this,” he apologizes with a small motion of his hand towards it.

Aofil taps one half with their foot. “We’ll worry about this later. You go home and deal with your soul first, that’s more important. I have another one I can use.”

“A spare table?”

Aofil shrugs before nodding their head to the basement door. “Gotta be one somewhere down there.”

Asriel nods, “Right,” before he makes his way into the hallway.

“Call me if you feel like you need me there for whatever reason, Asriel,” Aofil shouts after him.

“Yeah,” he shouts back before opening the door. “Sure.”

Once alone, Aofil draws a sighs so heavy would it be pointed towards Mt. Ebott it would be knocked over, bringing sunlight to the Underground, and just like how every monster down there would have more sunlight than they could handle, it’s just worsened Aofil’s headache.

And here they thought that Muffin would be the worse that’s happened them this day.

Wait...Where is Muffin?

Aofil spins their head around to their kettle. “Where’s Muffin?” they ask in such a tone that the kettle flinches back. It looks around to the other appliances, but they all just shrug.

Aofil lunges themselves out of their seat. “Muffin!” they yell. They whistle for him. “I got spiders, Muffin!”

But no one came.

Not the tiniest sound of skittering legs barreling towards Aofil.

They charge the living room, but he’s not there. Not in the hallway, nor in the basement. Aofil flies up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. “Muffin!”

Aofil almost tackles their bedroom door open. “Muf-”

Three sleepy eyes open up just the slightest before closing again. A long tongue emerges from the uneven mouth, and is flown across the rough, yet peaceful, face before being dragged back inside the dark cave that is Muffin’s mouth again. He drags a bear plush closer to him with his legs, nuzzling its face against his. A smile of pure content forms on his lips.

Aofil heaves a relieved sigh. “There you are,” they say while leaning their shoulder against the door frame. “And here I-”

Muffin burps, coughing out of him a sock that lands on the hardwood floor with a sloppy splat.

“Nevermind...”


	11. Mother (small piece of) son talk

“Remember, today’s the deadline for the physics project, and by that I mean that if I have it by the time we start class tomorrow, it will be counted as handed in in time. Send it in via email, or leave it in my message box next to the teacher’s lounge.”

Aofil sweeps the classroom with their eyes.

“And if you haven’t started it yet I suggest you do it right now.”

A couple of kids rush their way towards the door, squeezing through it in a flurry of odd numbered limbs and heads. Like a major spill at a paint factory, the ensuing squeeze and blend of their scale, feather, and fur colors creates somewhat of a sloppily made rainbow that, only after some panicked grunting, manages to finally unsqueeze itself with an audible thud.

The rest of the classroom leaves with a quiet murmur about the project. Some discussing the final touches, some avoiding Aofil’s eyes, and some striding out with pride. Aofil’s getting a pretty good estimate which ones they will enjoy reading because of the good quality of their reports, and which ones they will enjoy reading because of the bad quality of their reports.

They hope all of them are good, of course, but Aofil’s allowed to humor themselves every once in a while.

Asriel still enjoys the sight of the boring floor more than eye contact with Aofil though. His head moves up when Frisk approaches, so it can’t be that bad now, can it?

Hopefully not.

Once their class has left Aofil alone in their classroom, they sit down at their computer. Their screen informs them that they have an urgent message, as a, barely, animated monster in the top right corner waves a letter in its hand.

“Can you come into my office as soon as you’re able too?” 

Signed Toriel.

Aofil sighs through their lips. Was only a matter of time, really, but Aofil would’ve still liked for it to not have been the night after Muffet called and told Aofil that she needed to be away for a little while longer. Especially also not after the same night which Muffin overheard that, and the same night he spent whining during his sleep.

Coupled with his snoring it was a bit too much for Aofil. Snoring they could handle, albeit poorly, but the staggering sobs and blabbering slobbing was a bit too irregular for Aofil to get a good night’s rest.

“Good thing I have you,” Aofil cheers to their Mikkarama garnished coffee cup before drinking the last mouthful of it.

With vigor reinstated as much as possible, Aofil reaches into the depths of their backpack to retrieve some cutlery that they arrange on their desk. They place a pile of handed in homework next to them.

“Correct these while I’m away,” they order before leaving for Toriel’s office.

Toriel’s not one to send a message and then go cold turkey immediately after, that much Aofil knows, so her not opening as they knock on her office door has their brow furrow in thought. They conclude that the door is unlocked by the way it opens as they put some weight on the handle. Her cup of tea is still steaming, so maybe she was called away in a hurry?

Aofil seats themselves opposite her desk to wait. They barely have time to start drumming on their legs before Toriel enters. She flinches a bit seeing Aofil already sitting there. “Oh.” Her hand rests on the handle for a few seconds longer than usual. She also tightens it hard before closing, which is also a bit unusual. “You got my message, Aofil?”

Her voice is a bit on the wavering side.

“I did,” Aofil nods. “You wanted to talk to me about something?” they ask as Toriel makes her way to her chair.

Her eyes are glued down at her desk as she nods. “Yes, I did.” She holds the nod also for a few seconds longer than usual. “I did,” she repeats a bit quieter.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” Aofil wonders just in case. It could just be about when they accidentally set off the fire alarm when they wanted to demonstrate igniting hydrogen in a large glass flask. 

Toriel shakes her head. “No, nothing about that, Aofil.”

Alright, so it’s about Asriel…

Fantastic.

“Asriel told us something yesterday evening, Aofil. He told us who he was, or to use his own words,” the sharp inhale Toriel takes tells of how painful the words are to her, “what he is.”

Aofil crosses their arms as they sigh. They’d love for the coffee to set in right about now. “About my soul that resides inside him?”

“Yes.” Toriel moves her head up to meet Aofil’s eyes. “Yes, about your soul.”

“I’ve no problem with him having it,” Aofil makes perfectly clear to another Boss Monster. “I’m not using it, and I’m not planning on using it. Asriel can have it, it’s his now. I’m not taking any stake in it, and never will.”

Toriel’s tense shoulders sink down as she exhales. “Thank you, Aofil. I never doubted you would, but hearing you say that is still a relief to me. To be honest, I feel like I’ve done you a disservice in not outright dismissing the notion. However, the nature of what Asriel told us yesterday is...”

Toriel trails off, and is forced to clear her throat. It’s tightened like a corset, Aofil can hear it from the way she barely managed to produce a sound from her forced cough. Again, what they thought was the roof of the importance of monsters and souls is blown skywards. 

Toriel’s hand clamp together tight. “We all knew you were instrumental in saving Asriel, Aofil, in bringing him back, but to this extent we could never have guessed. Giving up a piece of your soul, that’s-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Aofil says sternly with the flat of their palm facing Toriel, “and remind you that I said that I make no claim to it. That means retroactively as well. What he has inside of him has not been inside of me for longer that it had been. I did not give it to him through a conscious decision, it wasn’t a sacrifice on my part. For as much as I know he found it lying around and took it, and I’m fine with his decision to do that. I say it again, it’s not mine, it is his.”

“You’re making a great-”

“No!” Aofil leans forward in their chair. “I’m not making anything, Toriel. It’s not a sacrifice, not me giving up something that is myself, no nothing. It’s Asriel’s, not mine. Can we please leave it at that?”

Toriel takes a deep breath as she thinks. It’s almost audible how much she is. Her brow is furrowed deeper than Aofil’s ever seen.

Does it really mean this much to them?

“I...understand, Aofil.” 

“Does it really mean this much to you, Toriel?” Aofil hands falls hard back on their lap. “Why is it so difficult for you to accept that I don’t feel like I have a claim to the piece that is inside Asriel?”

Toriel squirms in her chair as she struggles to find the words. Aofil has probably turned her world upside down by not accepting her apology, by saying that she has nothing to apologize for. 

She clamps her hands together and puts the balled fist carefully on her desk. “We monsters are-”

“Made out of your soul,” Aofil finishes while rubbing their forehead. “I know that, but I guess I don’t know that in my own soul.”

“It is hard for humans to grasp the ramifications,” Toriel offers as condolences. “However, your souls are to you what your heart is. It is an important organ, even if it is made out of magic.”

Aofil nods. “We can swap organs though. Transplant it into other humans. Sure, it’s not as smooth as the kids trading marbles and cards in the schoolyard, but it is possible, and plenty of humans live their lives with another one’s organ inside of them.”

“If monsters can...” Toriel sighs as her head sinks down.

“Asriel can, demonstratively so. He’s grown up, very much so, in fact, and he shows no sign of slowing down.”

Toriel nods, but it’s reserved, thoughtful, and a bit fearful. “That is true.”

“You don’t look happy about it,” Aofil comments while crossing their arms again. They should probably button up their shirt arm as well, cover up their fur.

“Aofil,” Toriel exhales calmly to compose herself. It has limited effect, “have you heard of the bond between a Boss Monster and their offspring?”

“In passing, yes.” Aofil looks up to the side as they think. “I think. You only age if your children are alive.”

Toriel nods, but Aofil sees that she’d rather shake her head. “Correct, Aofil. Asgore and I, ever since Asriel came back, have aged. Not by a lot, but he’s taken a bit more interest in the human sport of golf, if you understand what I mean?”

Aofil nods. They do understand, but that’s a very strange example to use, especially from Toriel. There isn’t a monster equivalent?

“And as Asriel told us of his...situation, yesterday evening, we came to a conclusion, Aofil.”

The one Asriel also came to.

Toriel’s breath quivers as she drags a careful inhale. “We’re aging because of you, Aofil, not Asriel.”

“I know.” Aofil’s not sure what to offer as condolences. Buttoning their shirt arm to hide their fur might be the first step. That they do, with Toriel nodding silently at the gesture. “However, it is still because of Asriel inside me that you do.”

“Thank you, Aofil,” Toriel says with her voice so quivering. Each vibration is like a rough shake on Aofil’s heart. Or is it Asriel inside them seeing his mom on the brink of tears?

Aofil sighs, are they gonna give in to this too? If they do they need to accept that the piece inside Asriel makes him Aofil too. 

Fantastic...

“I know I just said that I don’t see the piece of soul inside Asriel as mine, and that you’ve said that you don’t see his piece inside me as him, but I’m still gonna say that it is because of him that you’re aging. Even if that makes me a hypocrite. I’m gonna shout that from atop Mt. Ebott if I have to. The cat is out of the bag about the two of our souls, but really, does it matter? I’m not saying that to denounce or in some way reduce what you monsters are, but maybe we can just pretend we didn’t find this out? Continue like it was? It was nice, still can be.”

Toriel keeps her head low.

“I’m reminded of when we first saw Asriel again,” she says almost in a whisper, the weight of the words just barely escaping her lips. “We hesitated. We saw our son again. Our long gone son, arms extended towards us, but we backed off.” She has the same look of stunned confusion as the time she describes. A suspicion starts to grow inside Aofil because of that. “And now, a small part of me wonders if I was correct in being hesitant.”

She can’t- “You can’t be saying those things, Toriel.” Aofil leans forward again, but a shiver of tension from Toriel freezes them in their movement.

“I’m torn, Aofil.” Toriel’s hands forms into a fist that she squeezes tightly. “I know that it is Asriel that is making us age, but it is not the Asriel I’ve been seeing myself in all these years. It’s not the Asriel that’s grown up to be such a great young man. It’s the Asriel that just recently came back to us. You, Aofil. He is a part of you, and you are a part of him. You are all of the part of him that still exists in this world. I know you’ve resented that it is yours, but I can’t look past that. The importance of human souls, and the horrors it brought to, not only, me, but the entire Underground as well. It’s too fresh, too recent. I pray, wish, work, so that one day it will be but a distant and hazy memory, a legend disputed. We live our lives as they are now, we enjoy the Sun, and all its splendor and radiance. We bask in it alongside you humans, but in the shadow cast, we see the past filled of hate.”

“It’s in the past,” Aofil reminds. “Toriel, it’s all behind you.”

“It is, but what Asriel told us yesterday brought the past to the present. It’s too recent for me to handle properly, hence why I asked to speak with you, Aofil. I can’t put this on Frisk, and I feel bad putting this on you too. Forgive me, Aofil, but...” Toriel’s fist tenses so hard it could crush diamonds. “Asgore and I slept with our backs against each other last night… I’m not sure what that means.”

Aofil follows the tear running down Toriel’s cheek with their eyes.

“It’s because of the shock, Toriel. Trust me, I did the same,” Aofil offers as some form of comfort. “It has to sink in, and it might take a while for you, but it will sink in, I promise. With my entire soul, both me, and Asriel, promise it. Both the Asriel inside me, and the Asriel that you’ve seen grow up into your pride and joy alongside Frisk.”

Please let it get through to her. The suspicion keeps growing, and Aofil doesn’t like it in the slightest. She has to come through. She has to!

“Your words are kind, Aofil, as they always are. With your and Frisk’s help, we will get through this.” Toriel’s fist relaxes, as if drained of strength. “But not now. Perhaps later, but I can only muster up a perhaps. I love my son, and I would never call him anything else. The Asriel that is doing his best with the life that’s been given to him is the Asriel that I will forever call my son. However, being aware of this, that it is not his soul that makes him, it goes against all that makes us monsters. Never before have a monster been created out of a human soul.”

“Never before is a good description of what’s happened while I’ve been around,” Aofil adds while trying to give Toriel a warm smile. They feel it bounce off her, but she still smiles back. “Never before a cracked soul like mine, never before a monster coming back from the dead. Hell, never before monsters escaping their prison to begin with.”

Toriel chuckles just barely. “True, Aofil. It’s just...” Her muzzle is tugged involuntarily in multiple directions. Her teeth clamp down, gritted against her spastic lips. “My son...”

“Is still your son,” Aofil feels that they have to remind Toriel. If she slips, then it might be worse than when her memories were in disarray. If she resents Asriel as her son, then perhaps that will happen again… 

Aofil eyes move in a panic, darting up and down Toriel’s face. No, that can’t be happening. Aofil can’t let that happen!

“I...I...” Toriel’s hand again forms into a fist. A fist that she slams down on her lap. She hunches forward. “I love my son. He is my son. I can’t be thinking like this! How can a mother have doubt like this? What am I?”

Toriel drags a sharp inhale. “Aofil...” She lifts her head, eyes filled with tear. “Do you feel him inside of you?”

“I don’t, Toriel. I didn’t when we had our talk before, and I don’t still.”

“But during your sparring.” Toriel scoots forward anxiously in her chair, with her eyes unblinking and staring deeply into Aofil’s. “Asriel said that’s when he realized, that you felt him, and could hear his thoughts.”

He really did tell everything. To that, Aofil is a bit surprised. Usually telling everything means telling everything except some parts that are better not spoken of. It seems that eventually the truth comes out one way or another. Well, except Frisk being host to Chara. That seems to still be under a lid the size and weight of Mt. Ebott. 

Hopefully…

“Yeah, I did,” Aofil admits. “I felt him, but that was only because he had intent to...hurt me.”

Toriel finally blinks, rapidly, and hard. “Yes, that he did.” She tilts her head down to the side, shaking it lightly while trying to form her words. “I...” Her mouth again tugs in various ways. “I never believed he’d do such a thing. My child, so burdened.”

“He does his best, as you say,” Aofil offers. “Any lesser monster, or human, would probably not be able to handle what he’s gone through.”

Toriel nods, and a small smile manages to fight its way through her quivering lips. “You are of good soul, Aofil. I can’t imagine where we would’ve been if we didn’t have you, or Frisk.”

“You’ve had me for less than you haven’t, Toriel. Same with me and what’s inside of Asriel.” Aofil’s not sure if they should put their hand over Toriel’s, but their decision is made for them, as Toriel puts hers over theirs.

“Aofil,” she says while looking deeper into Aofil’s eyes than she ever has before, “never speak of yourself as something lesser than you are. Your humility is welcome, but all of what you’ve done, all that you continue to do, that is something you may never take away from yourself.” Her voice is back to the stability of her motherly ways. Completely shifted, from liquid to solid. Her fingers runs across the back of Aofil’s hand, caressing warmly with love so tender. Suddenly it’s Aofil that feels their throat choking. They exposed their weakness, and Toriel’s pounced on it, but not to attack, or exploit. She’s there to comfort, to heal. 

A mother, as always.

She’s back. She didn’t slip! Too close. Too damn close.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad that Asriel has your soul inside of him.”

Aofil shrugs. “He’s done more with it than I have.”

Toriel’s eyes harden. “Aofil...”

“Again, because I’m not using it,” Aofil clarifies while putting their hand on their chest. “I’m happy that he has it, it’s just that the shock hasn’t receded yet.”

Toriel nods to herself. “Perhaps.” She pauses for a long beat, allowing the commotion outside her office door to slowly creep inside, filling the room with soft murmuring. Among the quiet voices there is one that Toriel’s ears catch almost immediately. She lifts her head, looking through Aofil and the door. 

The voice is laughing, Aofil guesses because of a joke. Happy, filled with joy. 

“Show us, Asriel.”

“I’m not gonna flex, MK,” he answers.

More laughter, but this seems to be aimed at him instead of from him.

“That would be the day when you stop flexing, Asriel! Come on, just the arm.”

Toriel coughs a gentle chuckle as she hears Asriel sigh deep through the door. The sigh is quickly followed by loud and impressed gasping.

“Like touching that one rock that snarks back at you.”

“Same amount of snark, if not more!”

Aofil manages to catch Toriel’s eyes again as she dries off a tear from her cheek. “Guess him being of human soul gives him a bit more meat on his bones.”

Toriel shoots some air out her nose. Impressed air. Or perhaps...proud? “Yeah, the day where he finally defeats Asgore in arm wrestling is soon. It is a relief to know the reason for Asriel’s...difficulties with his magic. He will continue trying, that I know. Perhaps you should-”

Aofil puts up a hand again to stop Toriel. “Asriel said that if I were to learn magic, or try to, to be more realistic about it, then that might strengthen whatever bond there is between us. Might make me take over him, or something. I don’t want that, and I don’t think anyone else want to either.”

“I see.” Toriel seems to just now have realized that. “I will leave it up to you two to decide how to proceed further. Know that we will be supportive of whatever choice you two make, Aofil.”

They nod, “As always,” and tilt their head up to catch the clock. It’s almost time for their next lesson, and they’d like some time to process this alone for a bit.

Toriel follows where Aofil is looking. “Thank you for taking your time, Aofil.” She stands up with her arms crossed carefully over her robe. “Really, from the bottom of my soul.”

Aofil stands up as well. “It’s a big deal for all of us.”

Toriel makes her way around and embraces Aofil. “It is, and again, thank you for being here.”

Aofil returns the hug. As if they wouldn’t? “Same to you, Toriel. Otherwise I wouldn’t have a job.”

Their face almost drowns in soft silky robe as Toriel scoffs. “I’m only here on principal,” she says with a chuckle.

“That you are, Tor-”

Oh god damn it, that was a pun.

Toriel’s growing chuckle might be a bit too much for Aofil’s taste, but they feel she needs it right now. She opens the door with a smile, which is the best ending to this that Aofil could ever imagine.

“How is Muffin fairing, by the way?”

Aofil stops mid step in the door frame. “He’s fine. He had a bit of a sulk yesterday when Muffet called and said that she had to be away a little while longer, but he’ll get over it.”

Toriel’s brow sinks just the slightest. “I see,” she says while trying to hide her surprise. A trace is left behind though. “Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer from your class. I’ll see you later, Aofil.”

“You too,” they answer before Toriel closes the door.

Once back to their own classroom Aofil sits down hard in their chair. A long and dragged out sigh echoes through the room, but right now Aofil head is too full to care if anyone hears. They massage their face with both of their hand. They pause to breath in, and then sigh again while rubbing everything they can on their face.

Just...all of this…

Their sigh has their lips imitating an old diesel engine starting with too little of a choke.

Right now they could actually do with some Mettaton, to be perfectly honest, at least he’s…

Aofil throws their eyes open. They snap their head at their cutlery that they brought with them, but they’re still.

The familiar whirring continues though, just outside their door.

A silhouette, a fabulous silhouette, comes into view. The whirring stops, only to be replaced by a couple of soft knocks.

“Yoohoo?”

You’ve gotta be kidding...


	12. A star to shine some light

“It’s like every single time I think of someone they just materialize,” Aofil sighs out while rubbing their temples. “And of all the people to knock before entering, it’s Mettaton.”

Aofil shakes their head in disbelief so deep they need spelunking equipment and a small bird to tell them that they’re far too deep. 

It’s been telling Aofil for a good mile or so by now.

Wonder when Aofil will listen..

“Yoohoo, Aofil?” Mettaton asks again through the door. “It’s been far too long, darling. I just have to speak with you.”

Does he now?

“Met-” is the only sound Aofil manages to produce before Mettaton swings the door open, strutting in with an enthusiastic step that radiates fabulous and glitter.

Aofil watches the glitter slowly flutter down on the floor. “You know that someone is gonna have to clean that, right?” they ask with a finger pointing.

“Oh, Aofil.” Mettaton extends his leg, throwing it over the chair next to Aofil’s desk, and with one step, he seats himself with his chin resting on his hands. His elbows are planted on two stacks of papers Aofil’s prepared for the next lesson. If he gets oil on those…

“I only use non biodegradable confetti when I’m indoors, so don’t you worry. They’ll disappear in time.”

They’ll disa...What? 

“You really shouldn’t frown like that, Aof dear. Those wrinkles of yours get so prominent when you do so. I can recommend some MTT creams should you want.” Mettaton leans in closer to Aofil who cranes their head back. Their neck isn’t as extendable as Mettaton though, and he eventually catches up to Aofil’s ears. “They come in bulk, I can-”

Aofil pushes away Mettaton’s head with the flat of their palm. “Don’t push it,” they firmly state. “And what do you mean by them being non biodegradable and disappearing?” they ask after a short pause to take in the loud clonk that came from Mettaton’s head being lodged back into place.

“I would think you of all people would understand, Aofil.” Mettaton again comes face to palm when he again tries to lean in on Aofil. He retreats with a slightly miffed huff. “You’re the science teacher, after all.”

“Then enlighten me,” Aofil is so ever curious what Mettaton means by this. They put their hands together and place them on the table along with their lower arms. Aofil summons a patient smile, the same one they use when one of their students try to wring themselves out of a test or homework. 

Mettaton opens up one palm that he puts to his side. “Biodegradable confetti outside, it degrades in nature.” He opens his other palm and puts is to his other side. “Non biodegradable inside, it degrades in none nature.”

Oh that patient smile is getting a run for its money now! Aofil has to fight their face from scrunching up into that of pure bafflement. They’re absolutely sure Mettaton is watching them do that so he can push more of his creams on Aofil. He’s probably got a stack of contracts just ready to sign.

Aofil takes a patient breath, only now realizing that their knuckles have gone white from them squeezing them so hard together. They make a conscious effort to relax their shoulders, and to let the calm roll down their arms to their hands. “No, Mettaton,” they say after another patient inhale. “That’s not how it works, I’m afraid.”

He challenges that notion with a nod, “Yes, my dear Aofil,” and sweeps his hand dramatically over to the door. “That is how it works.”

Aofil rolls their chair to the side to get a better look and-

It’s gone.

“Perfect!”

Aofil is dragged back from their stunned position by the sound of a camera shutter rapidly firing off. They tilt their head up to Mettaton, who nods proudly. He opens up his stomach, presenting a stack of papers.

“If you could-”

“I’m not signing anything, Mettaton,” Aofil makes clear after leaning over their desk and slapping his stomach lid close. “No contracts. I do would like to know how those disappeared. Was it magic?”

Mettaton tugs a sinister grin, and opens his stomach again with a confident tilt of his head. Aofil again slaps it close. “Just tell me.”

“Magic, my dear human.” For a third time Mettaton opens up his stomach again. “The specifics are stated in the contract.”

Of course they are. Aofil tries to challenge Mettaton’s grin by furrowing their brow hard at him. It glances off him like a snowball tossed into the Sun. Aofil’s eyes move down to the stack of papers. Do they really have to?

“Was there something else you wanted me to do, M?”

Mettaton’s face freezes, his cocky grin solidifying into a drained frown. Aofil again leans out to the side to see what had him so stunned. They have a pretty good guess, judging by the voice.

“You’re working for Mettaton even during school hours, MK?” Aofil asks with a raised eyebrow. “I know you’re an adult and all, but even during school?”

MK shrugs, accidentally spilling some glitter from the dustpan he’s holding in his mouth. “I’m saving up some money for a rainy day, and I get to sneak in friends during his shows, so it’s not bad.”

Aofil’s eyes dart back and forth between MK realizing he’s spilled glitter and Mettaton looking like hes powered down. “You sure you should say that while Mettaton is here?” Aofil asks, a bit taken back by this whole situation. Tall order to be, considering the talk they just had with Toriel.

MK struggles a bit with getting the last glitter up with the tip of his tail. “It’s fine, he’s powered down.”

Oh, no wonder he looked like he was.

“I drove him here so that he could get some spare parts from Alphys. Don’t think he’s found her.”

Aofil places a careful finger on Mettaton’s shoulder. They push on it, but he doesn’t react. His face is still stuck halfway between confident smile and drained frown. “I don’t think so either. Is he gonna be fine?”

MK is careful with his nod, keeping one eye on the dustpan so that it doesn’t spill again. “Yeah, he should be fine. Just give him a smack on the side of his head. Should get him back to reality.”

As if Mettaton ever lived in a reality outside his own. “He’s done this before?”

“Yup!” MK shouts over his shoulder as he dumps the glitter into the trashcan that Aofil lifts up for him. He turns around with his tail facing Mettaton, and lifts it up. “Right around here.” He taps Mettaton’s head at the temple with the tip of his tail. “If it doesn’t work, hit him harder until he wakes up.”

“Um...” Aofil’s not sure. “Shouldn’t you do it?”

“If I swing my tail I’m gonna knock over everything on your desk, and we can’t drag him out. Not even Undyne can get him to move when he’s shut down. Well, I mean, she could probably, but you know what I mean.” 

Aofil stands up and holds their finger where MK’s tail is. “Here?”

MK nods. “Yes, right there. My PE is starting now, so I have to go.”

“You do that.”

“By the way!” MK shouts from the door. “You said we could hand in our report in your message box?”

“Yeah,” Aofil answers while still holding their finger on the spot MK showed. “Before tomorrow’s lesson.”

“Right, then I’ll tell Vulky that! See you tomorrow!” MK closes the door behind him with his tail. “Yooo! Vulky!”

Aofil returns their attention to the spot their finger is on. Just a slap, huh? Well, to be perfectly honest, their not exactly opposed to the idea. If it’s to help him. They could always call Alphys afterwards if it doesn’t work.

Like a tsunami ravaging a calm coastal village, the temptation flushes through Aofil with the same wild, and primal, power. They look at their hand.

Alright...

“So just sign here,” Mettaton says to an empty chair. He looks around himself, only stopping when he spots Aofil wringing their hand. “Oh...when did you stand up, Aofil?”

Never before has Aofil felt that they needed something this bad as what they did right now. The pain can’t possibly take away the relief that’s surging through them right now. 

My god did they need that!

“So, anyways, the contract?” Mettaton circles his hand over his opened stomach as Aofil takes their own seat again. “I have a variety for you to choose from, sweetie human.”

“Keep ‘em.”

“Come now-”

“No, I’m serious.” Aofil, for the fourth time, closes Mettaton’s stomach. “Keep your contracts to yourself.”

Mettaton, surprisingly enough, shrugs, and doesn’t try to convince Aofil further. Aofil almost wants to ask why he’s not making another effort, but they have a sneaking suspicion that it’s what he’s planning on Aofil to do. Not gonna fall into that trap, but the bait is looking very tempting, Aofil’s gotta admit as much.

“You wouldn’t have time to attend one of my shows later this week?” Mettaton asks after a short silence.

“As a guest or as a performer?”

“Guest.”

Aofil opens up their wallet, and takes out the ban stamp card which they wave between their index finger and long finger. “Guest with this?”

Mettaton sighs, it sounding like a vacuum shutting off. “It really ruins the magic if I was to say yes to that, Aof dear.”

“Then I’m busy,” Aofil informs while putting the card back into their wallet which they place on their desk. “Gotta take care of Muffin.”

This, of all things, piques Mettaton’s interest, and he leans forward inquisitively. Aofil instinctively leans back. This is not something they’re used to see Mettaton do. “Is Muffet not able to? Is she hurt?”

“No...” Mettaton’s worried? “Muffet’s fine, I think,” Aofil adds after a beat. “She’s away on some large baking order, or something. She’s been gone for a week now, gonna be for a few more days to boot.”

Mettaton nods to himself. “I see. Would explain why she hasn’t been returning my calls. She told you what it was for?”

Aofil leans back with their arms crossed. They’ve never seen Mettaton this curious about something, genuinely curious. It’s not something they find wrong, just...not right. Is he in love with Muffet, perhaps?

Why did that just send an angry shiver up Aofil’s spine?

“My first guess was that it was something to do with you, Mettaton,” Aofil answers after getting the shiver under control with a clearing cough. “But evidently not.”

“No, I have provided her with a bakery of her own at my restaurant for instant serving without a moment’s hesitation.”

Again with that shiver…

“And speaking of Muffet and you, Aof.”

Suddenly the shiver reverses, turning ice cold.

“I do must insist on you and Muffet presenting my next collection. It has been nothing short of a miracle to rival that of Frisk breaking the Barrier for us monsters. Sales are through the roof, even after I extended the one in my restaurant to accommodate those griffon monsters.”

Yes, it’s quite tall now. Aofil would call it irresponsibly tall if they were an architect, but they’re not, so instead they call it stupidly tall. Aofil can already see the shadow creeping up to their property when the Sun is behind the restaurant. They have told the shadow to stop before it reaches their lawn on numerous occasions, and so far it has obliged. If Mettaton adds a few more floors Aofil will be forced to put in a formal complaint. For being such a star himself he do likes to cast long shadows.

“So, anyways, how are you and the Prince doing?”

What does he mean by that? “We’re fine, why do you ask?”

Mettaton lifts a single finger pointing at Aofil’s arm. “He still visible?”

And who told him that?

“Alphys, before you ask,” Mettaton answers.

Right… Of course she did, and totally out of her own volition, Aofil guesses.

“Yeah, he is.” Aofil’s not gonna show their fur though. “Been calm ever since I came back.”

“Glad to hear that, Aofil.”

His smile is...genuine? Aofil’s uncomfortable seeing that.

“I’m sure you’ve heard from Alphys, the Royals, Undy, and the skeletons how much they’ve missed you,” Mettaton begins while crossing his leg over his other with his hands clasped together on his raised knee. “How there was an Aofil shaped hole in their Aofil shaped heart?”

“They didn’t formulate it exactly like that,” Aofil comments while chuckling. It does explain it pretty well. Now, who wrote it for him?

“Well, unlike if they would have a Mettaton shaped hole, I believe it did them some good.”

Mhm? Aofil leans back with their arms folded and their stare hardened. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely!” Mettaton recoils back like Aofil is accusing him of murder. “Why would I ever lie?”

“Many reasons.”

Mettaton waves that silly notion away. “Understandably, you’re a bit against what I just said, am I correct? Your biggest idol telling you that running away was the best course of action? That would be obscene should it be a lesson during my children’s programs, but you are an adult, Aofil. You have full control of your disposable income, rather than just partly.”

Aofil pockets their wallet after a not too subtle glance down at it from Mettaton.

He pretends not to be fazed by that. “The reason being, my dear human, is exactly that. You were their dear human. I guess still are?”

Aofil’s not gonna dignify that with an answer.

Mettaton’s stomach closes back up after just barely opening. “You not being at their side to help them gave them more confidence, more reliability in themselves. We emerged into a world controlled by humans with souls containing power none of us could fathom having. They met you, and immediately started to rely on you to be their safety net.”

“And Frisk?” Aofil challenges again with a furrowed brow.

Mettaton shakes his ever so amused head. “The Queen wouldn’t let a child bear such burdens, especially not a child which had already done so much.” He nods to Aofil. “You, you were the adult human they could fall back on. When you left though, that safety was taken away, but the responsibilities they were about to face only grew. Now without this immensely powerful soul at their side, what would they do?”

“What did they do?” Aofil asks back.

“They did.”

Okay?

“They did,” Mettaton repeats. “They put their hopes into themselves, not a human. For years before, the only thing that would bring us hope was another human falling down and giving up their soul, through whatever means necessary.” He again points a finger to Aofil. “You were the first one to leave.”

That’s not true.

“After the tragedy of the first human, that is,” Mettaton adds, but it doesn’t really make Aofil feel any better. “But you leaving, and in a way the first human leaving too, brought that ever so precious feeling, determination. This time was different though. The Royals couldn’t just go back into the Underground with you gone, now could they? Not after what they’ve promised us. New business opportunities. A whole Surface to corner with my fabulous brand of products. Humans to finally entertain!”

Aofil can’t tell if it’s tears or hydraulic fluid running down Mettaton’s cheek.

“So, they decided to do something we monsters could never think possible, and face the humans with nothing but ourselves. Barring the Riot, it went well, as you can see around you now, Aof.” 

“That’s not how the Dreemurrs phrased it though.” Aofil puts their hand over their patch of fur as Mettaton’s eyes move over to it. “The real ones, not the sliver that resides within me.”

“Isn’t it real to you?” Mettaton sends back with an inquisitive tilt. “If your arm is anything to go by, I’d say it’s manifest. Humor me, Aofil, could you imagine the Dreemurrs taking credit for anything? Especially the King and Queen?”

Aofil lifts up a finger to challenge that, but they retract it immediately. He’s got a point there.

“They’re a humble bunch, those Boss Monsters, I’m glad to have those in charge. I’m including Frisk, of course.” Mettaton draws a thoughtful sigh. “That child has helped us in ways we never thought possible.”

Did Aofil hit Mettaton too hard? This is the complete opposite of what he’s supposed to be. Although, this is the first time Aofil’s been with him alone to talk. All of their previous encounters have been in the presence of others. Is he just keeping up appearances when others are around?

Aofil taps their desk with their knuckles. “Didn’t you just say that the Dreemurrs managed this without any human help? How about Frisk?”

“They helped, of course, but only as much as a child could do. They may have saved the monsters, with a soul more powerful than all combined, but against humans, they’re merely a child.” Mettaton leans forward. “Do you know why your friends seem so keen to show up out of the blue?”

Aofil returns a raised eyebrow. “Like what you just did?”

“So we are friends!” Mettaton throws his arms out in bliss. “How wonderful!”

Walked right into that one…

“But I digress.” Mettaton flairs his hand towards Aofil’s chest. “I’m sure you know the nature of your soul?”

“Gotta have to be more specific.” Does he mean that it is like Chara’s? Or that it is red? Or that it is broken, and mended with Asriel’s soul? Or that it is a human’s?

“I’m talking of course of it being sought after.”

Okay…

“As in, we monsters enjoy its company. It’s like a cozy hearth for us to warm ourselves by.”

“I’ve been told that, yes.” Aofil nods. “It does bring up the question whether or not you’re my friend because of me, or because of my soul.”

“Can’t it be both?” Mettaton proposes with a thoughtful expression. “The two parts of you that we enjoy wholly?”

“It sounds like you’re implying that my soul is a sort of perfume, or something.”

“No, it’s-” Mettaton’s face again freezes. Grinds start turning in his head, very loud gears, Aofil can clearly hear them. They sound almost like cash registers.

“Yes...” The gears turn louder. “Yes.” And louder. “Yes!” And louder!

Mettaton flies out of his chair. “I knew they made the right decision choosing you, Aofil dear!” He takes off out the door before Aofil has time to react.

Choosing them? Who?

“MK!” Mettaton shouts just outside Aofil’s classroom door. “Would you kindly drive me back to the restaurant?”

MK opens the door ajar to pokes his head in a couple of seconds or so afterwards. “Yo, how hard did you hit M?”

“Hard?” Aofil answers. “I don’t know.” They swipe the air with the flat of their palm. “Something like this?”

MK’s brow furrows. “Not enough. Thanks anyways though.”

Not hard enough? What is he-

The papers on Aofil’s desk again rattle as Aofil also rushes out of their chair towards the door. They catch MK spinning his tail against Mettaton’s head in the last second. He stumbles from the impact, and his head twitches violently. After catching himself on the wall, Mettaton shakes his head, and stands upright again. He brushes off his shoulder pads. “Ah, MK.” His voice needs a couple of words to spool back up. “Why aren’t you driving me at this moment?”

“You froze, M,” MK answers while opening the front door for Mettaton. “Had to get you back up to speed again.”

“I see.” Mettaton glances back to Aofil. “I’ll send you a bottle as thanks for your wonderful idea, Aofil dear.”

Mettaton rolls out of the building while throwing some more glitter behind him. MK sweeps it along with his tail as he follows Mettaton out.

Aofil turns their head to the myriad of pupils staring both at the front door, and Aofil’s. “Yes, are we ready to start?” Aofil asks while opening their door further.

An orange monster shakes two of its four head. “It’s been fifteen minutes, we’re legally allowed to leave.”

Aofil chuckles. They’ve heard that excuse before. They sweep their hand inwards towards the classroom.

“No, seriously,” the orange monster’s other head says. “It’s been twenty minutes. We’re legally allowed.”

“That’s-”

“True,” Toriel chimes in as she emerges from the printing room. “I highlighted it in your contract, Aofil.”

Aofil waits for laughter that will never arrive. 

“Right...” they answer after a short, but feeling like long, while of awkward silence. “Must’ve slipped past me.”

They close the door with a plastered smile.

It drains as they suddenly realize.

It’s not only Mettaton they have to be careful with contracts about.


	13. Never a quiet lunch

“It just feels so strange. It’s like I’m not myself. Parts of me just...doesn’t feel normal. Like a mixed bag of different feelings of touch wherever I run my finger. I don’t know if I can handle this, Aofil. I’m being torn apart in my own skin! I don’t know what’s me, and what’s not, and they’re all changing at the same time!”

Aofil halts their fork filled with rolled up pasta just before their mouth. Their face scrunches up into a perplexed frown, and they put down their fork with a loud clank on the porcelain plate.

“What should I do? I can’t go one like this!”

Aofil shakes their head carefully. “Just shower again, Undyne? Wash it off?”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” she shouts while rubbing the length of her arm with her other hand. “We’re out of shampoo! I had to use three different ones since they were all just a squirt left from being completely empty. It feels so weird! My hair smells differently from my skin, my skin smells differently from other parts of my skin, and they all have this different moisture and texture to them and- Ngaaaaah!” 

Undyne whips her hair around after smelling it. Aofil cranes their neck back to avoid being smacked in the face.

“It’s feel so weird!” Undyne shoves both her arm and hair across the teacher lounge’s table for Aofil to feel. They just barely manage to move their plate out of the way. Their glass didn’t fair better, and their water creeps dangerously close from glass knocked over by Undyne’s hasty elbow. Aofil wipes the water up just before it manages to escape off the table’s edge.

Undyne shakes her arm and hair to remind Aofil. “Feel them!” 

“Alright, alright.” Aofil answers as they throw the soaked bundle of paper into the trash bin. They make their way back to Undyne practically lying over the table while presenting her hair and arm. 

“You feel it?” Undyne asks as Aofil carefully rubs some strands of her hair between their fingers.

“It feels soft.” That’s all Aofil can really say. “Is it the wrong kind of soft?”

“Yes!” Undyne nods, and the movement translates to her hair shaking Aofil’s hand. “Smell it too!”

Aofil throws a glance at the door. It was a while since Mettaton left the building, but you never know with him. Undyne’s hair smells like it usually does, pink. How is it different?

Undyne tilts her head awkwardly to both see Aofil and not twist her hair too much. “Right?” she asks with her eye desperate for a validating answer.

“No?” Aofil smells it again. “Not really?”

“But it is!” 

Alright then.

“My arm too!”

Undyne shoves her arm into Aofil’s hand. Her scales chafe against Aofil’s palm, but it’s not enough to-

“Told you,” Undyne exclaims with relief as she sees Aofil’s face morph into furrowed thought. She slowly moves her arm back and forth along with Aofil’s gentle squeezes.

There is something…

It’s subtle, but her scales on her forearm feel a tad rougher than on her upper arm. The difference between a dry and wet scouring pad, almost.

“Is there different body washes for different types of scales?” Aofil asks after releasing Undyne’s arm. “Like, for different monsters? I’d imagine there being.” They have to fight their urge to smell their hand, and the mix of pink it might smell.

“Yeah.” Undyne nods while grabbing the same parts of her upper and lower arm as Aofil did, albeit with a more conflicted expression to her face. “There is. Me and Alphee use different ones, since hers is a bit more, you know.”

No, Aofil doesn’t. They still nod, hoping that it doesn’t mean anything, well, you know.

“Which is what I had to use this morning. Hers, mine, and then the one we keep around for Frisk.” Undyne crosses her arms over her abdomen, grabbing the edges of her tank top. Aofil would really like to know what she means by them knowing right about now. “These feel the worst though,” Undyne laments as she slowly drags her tank top up.

Aofil would really like to know now!

Undyne stops it just as her gills come into view. Aofil releases a grand sigh of relief. “See?” she asks while turning side to side. “They’re so dried up! It’s like I’m walking around with sandpaper implanted!” She throws her tank top down again. “Then for my hair I had to also use some of that fur shampoo we keep around for Asriel as well as my own shampoo.”

Undyne brings the tail of her hair up to her...nose? She can clearly smell it since she visibly reacts to it and backs her head away from it with a return of her conflicted expression. Aofil feels their eyes move down to their arm. Fur shampoo, she says? Perhaps…

“It’s my skin that crawls the most though!” Undyne informs while brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “It must be your human body wash,” she mutters while rubbing her arm again in an attempt to mellow out the difference. The only thing mellowing out is her tired expression though.

“Last time I was around to shower I had to use some of yours, Undyne. It chafed a bit when I used it. If anything I feel that this is proper revenge.”

Aofil doesn’t really mean that. Well, they kinda do, but not in an evil way, not an evil evil way, just a friendly evil way. Just a little evil between friends. Evil body wash between friends in the shower…

Aofil derails their train of thought before it speeds out of control by shaking their head.

“Frisk brought that up too,” Undyne says after a brief pause to take in Aofil’s sudden shake, “so me and Alphee decided to get some for you humans as well. Otherwise we would drown in complaints since apparently you humans are such softies! Ngahahaha! I gotta tell you,” Undyne tugs a toothy grin, “the bottles for your human body wash are so strange. It’s like, different kinds of fruit being thrown into creams? I’m buying necessities for my bathroom, not flavored yogurt! I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find any yogurt with package sporting a bowl in a shower. I will never stop looking though! Gotta be one somewhere.”

“One of the few things not plastered with Mettaton’s face though,” Aofil retorts while brushing their nose. A sharp smell of two kinds of pink smells comes with them dragging their thumb across their nose, and they almost sneeze from the intensity. They quickly dry it off with their other, non pink smelling, hand.

“Hah!” Undyne winks once at Aofil. “You got a point there, Aof. The first thing I do when I come home after shopping is covering up Mettaton’s face on all of those damn products.”

“Violently?” Aofil pries curiously. “And still? After all this time?”

Undyne’s grin grows. “Always. I don’t care if Alphee gets a discount since she made him and all that, that smug grin looks way better under a few layers of thick strokes of black felt marker.” Undyne slashes the air in front of her rapidly as she pretends to draw on an imaginary cereal box. Her movement isn’t that much different than her sparring, especially her excited face.

“A few?” Aofil retorts. “A few in monster must mean a lot in human then, because I can’t imagine you doing anything less than the entire pen. Would explain why I never find a full black pen in any of the classrooms though.”

Undyne’s coughing does the complete opposite of her intentions. “I wouldn’t know anything by that,” she lies through her smile that’s suddenly a ways bigger. “Guess they just disappear, or something.”

Aofil holds their tilted head and raised eyebrow towards her, and Undyne does her best to pretend not to be fazed by it. She drinks from her coffee cup, making a sound not unlike a raging waterfall.

“You’d think there would be ghosts around,” Aofil says, still with their head tilted. “Swooping in, taking our black felt pens. I wonder what they would use them for?”

“Maybe making tattoos?” Undyne guesses haphazardly, not that she knows… ”Perhaps maybe something else?”

“Perhaps maybe.” Aofil nods accusingly. “Yes, perhaps maybe.”

Undyne’s suddenly very focused on her food. It’s just something about how it is not looking Aofil in the eyes that just grabs her attention, and holds it tight. Just, no escape. She can’t take her eyes off them, who’d know what would happen? She has to not look Aofil in the eyes, or else the entire fabric of reality might collapse. Not sure how, but there’s a possibility, and what kind of leader of the Royal Guard would let the world collapse on her watch?

Undyne throws her closed fist down on the table. “Never!” she exclaims.

Should Aofil tell Toriel about this? She has to know by now though. Toriel’s the headmaster, nothing slips past her. Especially Aofil’s demonstrations. It’s amazing what ruckus one large glass flask filled with hydrogen can make. Their demonstration went well, it did what Aofil wanted it to do, but that wasn’t enough, apparently. They took all the precautions. Goggles, lab coat, hair moved away, gloves. They would’ve done it outside hadn’t it been windy. They had also asked the snow dragon to be ready with his ice magic if things went overboard, which, yes, it did, but the snow dragon subdued the fire. No harm done. No one got hurt, no one lost an eyebrow, or worse.

Except for the ceiling, that is.

“What’s up with the ceiling in your classroom, by the way?”

Can she read thoughts? When did Undyne learn that?

“Just a thing,” Aofil answers, now also very interested in their food which forces them to not look Undyne in the eyes. This pasta...so exquisite! So not explaining why their classroom ceiling is scorched worse than Undyne’s first house. It’s a good quality for pasta to have.

“Ghosts there as well?” Undyne offers as a friendly gesture along with a chuckle.

“Sure.” Aofil nods. “Sounds good.”

The two friends return to their eating, and the teacher’s lounge again settles into a soft state of silently clinking utensils. No whirring of motors, Aofil’s told theirs to be quiet for the meal.

“Speaking of ghosts,” Aofil remembers after a minute or so as they twirl their fork carefully as to not spill anything, but still make enough of a movement to make it a gesture, “one came over earlier today.”

“Here? In the school?” Undyne checks the wall, readying herself should a ghost come through. “New pupil?”

“Mettaton, actually.”

Undyne takes her eyes off the wall and moves them to Aofil along with a conflicted frown. “He’s a new pupil?”

Aofil shakes their head. “No, of course not.”

“It’s not really ‘of course’ since I just asked if there was a new pupil, Aof,” Undyne retorts with her open palm thrown against Aofil.

“Whatever.” Aofil waves it away. “Thing is, he said this really weird thing as he left.”

“Goodbye?”

Now it’s Aofil’s turn to send over an annoyed expression that’s met with a condescending hand wave. “He said something about choosing me? He used the word ‘they’ to describe who did. He was glad is was me too. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

Aofil barely has time to finish their sentence before Undyne starts awkwardly shuffling in her chair. “No,” she says, blatantly lying. She excuses herself to fetch some more water so that she can drink it innocently, further proving that she doesn’t know anything.

“Not a single clue?” Aofil pries, akin to a drill to a rotten melon. They hold their eyes hard on Undyne, not letting her slip even the slightest. “You don’t know anything about it?” Her eye shifts back and forth so much Aofil can almost picture whatever it is underneath her eye patch doing the same. 

Question is though, should they be the bad cop, or the good cop? Question is also, are they being mean to her by doing this?

Yes, yes they are, but she’s been opposed to Aofil getting any form of control over, and inside, their house, so this is evening the playing field. 

Sure, they could be the bigger person, but they could also enjoy themselves for once. Humor themselves a bit. They’re allowed that.

To be honest, it’s Aofil allowing themselves, but semantics are for later. Right now they have a confession to extract!

“What else did that dilapidated toaster say, Aof? You know he’s just saying stuff to get you to sign his contracts!” Undyne picks up her glass of water with a plastered smile. “Ngahahaha…ha...” Her smile drains quicker than her glass, turning into a panicked frown that’s clearly visible through the glass she’s put up to her mouth. The liquid she’s drinking immediately turns into sweats, beading out of her face like thick drops the size of grapes.

Hopefully she won’t faint. That would kinda ruin the mood. Very inconsiderate of Undyne to do so now that Aofil has this fun plan for her.

“There was something else he said,” Aofil pretends to ponder, putting their hand underneath their chin while feigning contemplation. “Something about...what was it again?”

“Could be many things!” Undyne says a bit louder than she planned. Would be a first for her, something Aofil’s keen to pick up on. She’s definitely hiding something. Aofil has their guesses, well, guess singular, but they’re pretty sure it’s a correct one. “Like I said, he was probably just scheming to get you to sign a contract! Maybe he wanted to revoke your ban card! He’s tried plenty of times with mine and Alphee’s. It’s like he doesn’t want to give us a free meal! You can’t trust him.”

They smack their lips as they finish their contemplation. “A name, he said. Two names, actually. An event, and two names.”

The grapes turn into golf balls.

“Frisk was the first name.”

The golf balls morph into melons.

“And there was something about Frisk. The event.” Aofil leans back with their hands clasped over their stomach. “Their birthday.”

The melons can’t grow further, so instead they become more numerous.

“And he also said that someone else had spilled the beans. Someone...” Aofil tilts their head down, their eyes meeting that of someone. “...called Undyne.”

Undyne flies out of her chair. “I didn’t!”

Right into Aofil’s trap. “But you know about it!” they shout back with their finger pointed straight at Undyne. “What have you chosen me for?”

Undyne’s mouth curls in on itself. Her entire body tenses, including her sweat. Stopped dead in its panicked track. She holds her breath, body, beliefs, still for a long and stressed while.

She’s caught, she can’t say anything. Aofil’s got her.

But not physically.

“Hey!” Aofil shouts after Undyne as she bolts out of the door, but it’s too late. Barely a second after they catch her running down the street full sprint through the window behind them. They sigh, but not because they didn’t get an answer. They sigh because she left her plate half eaten. Aofil’s gonna have to clean that one too along with theirs.

Well, their cutlery they brought from home is gonna clean the plates, but it’s the principal. 

Oh, it’s the principal.

“Why did Undyne run off, Aofil?” Toriel asks while holding the door in one hand, and scratching her perplexed head with the other. “She has a class in about five minutes.”

“I’m impressed that she managed to seeing how she stuck her foot in her mouth.”

“What was that?” Toriel asks. She didn’t really catch that.

“Nothing,” Aofil lies. “Maybe she’s warming up for her class,” they propose with a shrug.

“Warming up for cooking lessons?” Toriel hears her own question, and accepts it as a possibility with a slight tilt of her head. “As long as she also warms up the plates.” She sends over a playful wink to Aofil, who winks back. “Jogging up an appetite, perhaps?”

“As long as she not ladle to the class.”

Toriel puts her hand up to her mouth as she chuckles. Looks like she’s managed to compose herself a bit since earlier. Aofil still feels like they have to ask her about it though. It’s not really a pleasant feeling.

“You feeling a bit better now?”

Toriel closes her eyes solemnly as she moves her hand back down over her stomach. “Yes, I do. I took some time to think alone, and the rest I’ll have to do with my family later on. You’re welcome to attend, should you feel you need to, Aofil.”

“You said family, Toriel.” Aofil puts the flat of their palm up before she can retort. “I know that you consider me family, but it’s your family family that needs to talk it out. I’m fine, Asriel’s not.”

“I understand.”

Hopefully she does.

“I’ll let you return to your eating, Aofil.” Toriel bows her head with a smile. “Hope it tastes.”

Aofil cheers her with their full fork as she leaves. It’s not a lot left, but the gesture’s nice. While they chew, Aofil turns around to see if they can spot Undyne. They peer at the horizon, but she’s nowhere to be found. She really took off when Aofil mentioned Frisk’s party. A seldom sight, seeing Undyne rush off like that. Maybe they-

Dammit!

Aofil slaps their knee in frustration. They forgot to ask Toriel about Frisk’s party!

Dammit again!

They lean their neck onto the backrest of their chair. Although, now that they think about it, maybe it wouldn’t be the best and smoothest idea to press Toriel about that birthday party now that she has Asriel’s situation on her mind. Best case they would get a friendly and warm decline, and worst case…

Aofil’s not gonna think about that now. Instead they should think about their food. How good it is, the texture, how their chewing sounds like skittering feet on wooden floor.

Wait…

And why does Aofil hear themselves chewing despite stopping? And why is loude-

What’s left of Aofil’s food slams against the window as they’re knocked over from behind. Whatever knocked them over quickly hurries off them though, and throws itself against the glass. A loud and familiar slobbering sound follows the dazed bonk from the window pane.

“Muffin?” Aofil asks as they rise from their involuntary prone position.

Muffin looks over his shoulder at the sound of his name. It’s not as important as the food slowly dripping down around his tongue that’s lodged against the window though, so he returns to that instead. Very loudly.

“Ahuhuhu~”

“Oh.” Aofil climbs back into their chair with some support from the table. “Muffet. Back so soon?”

Muffet slides over the table, embracing Aofil with four of her arms. “Thank you so much for taking care of my sweetie Muffin, human.” With her other two arms she lifts up two bags that she places on the table next to Aofil. “I hope everything’s gone well with him?”

Aofil looks over their shoulder, at the large spider throwing his tongue viciously at whatever piece of food he can find. It’s not a pretty sight, even less so as Aofil’s struggles to keep Muffin away from their cooking last evening have now proved fruitless. Oh well, at least they got to eat some of it. Judging by the absolutely delicious smell coming from the bags Muffet just brought forth, Aofil is gonna be eating something else very soon though.

Muffet smiles as she tugs at the handles of the bags. “Could you hand these to the Queen, Aofil?”

Oh, woe is Aofil.

“Sure,” they still say. “You just missed her though. She might be in her office.

“Good!” Muffet stands up from her chair. “Then you don’t have to carry them far.”

I she…

“Muffin!” Muffet claps her six hands together. “Let’s go home!”

Aofil is forced to brace as Muffin, very ungracefully, rushes underneath their chair. 

“There are some bags waiting for you at home, human. Fuhuhuhu~ I made them special for you.”

That’s good and all, but… “How did you get in?”

Aofil’s concerns are like pouring water onto Undyne, all it brings is a smile and a laugh. “I’ll see you later, human.”

A handful of spider follows her from behind the wall mounted clock. Aofil goes to inspect it immediately after, but they can’t find a hole behind it.

Better not to dwell on that.

The smell from the bags again catches Aofil’s nose, and they turn their attention back to the bags. Might as well get it over with.

The bags are surprisingly heavy, but looking down into them, Aofil just sees tin foiled wrapped shapes and containers with various numbers written on them along with some drawing of Muffet’s head in different poses and smiles.

“Come in,” Toriel says after a couple of Aofil’s knocks. “Oh, Aofil.” She removes her hand from the phone in her hand. “Yes, I’m still here,” she informs the phone.

Aofil lifts up the bags in view to Toriel. “From Muffet,” they stage whisper before putting the bags on Toriel’s desk.

She reaches out her hand and upraised index finger. “Wait,” she mouths. “Yes, Aofil is here too. They-”

Toriel moves her eyes over to Aofil. “I understand,” she says with a slight melancholy to her voice. “I’ll ask them.”

Toriel again puts her hand over the phone. “It’s the Pastor.”

Oh, the Pastor. Why?

Toriel’s mouth must’ve suddenly gone dry, as she licks her lips and drags her lips uncomfortably. “Can...” She pauses to take a breath. “Can you accompany Asriel to Mt. Ebott?”

Aofil beckons for the phone. “Aofil here,” they greet.

“Oh, Aofil,” the pastor says. He sounds a bit anxious. “I don’t mean to drag you away from work...” He pauses as he must’ve realized that it’s the exact thing he’s meaning. “I’ve discovered something I need to speak with you in person of. The Prince as well.”

Asriel as well? Aofil tilts their head over to Toriel, who nods worryingly. “It can’t wait until later? It has to be now?”

“Sooner is very much preferable to later, I’m afraid.”

“And you can’t say it over the phone?”

“I need you two present to remove any doubt.”

Aofil again looks over to Toriel. She nods, still worried.

“Guess we’ll go then?” Aofil gets another nod from Toriel. They hand over her phone back to her.

“Thank you, Pastor,” she wishes before disconnecting the call.

Her unstable exhale makes the entire room shake.

“Not more weight on your shoulders.” She sighs again. “Not now.”

“We’ll manage.” Aofil shrugs casually. “If the Pastor says it’s important, it probably is. Don’t know why he couldn’t just say it over the phone?”

“I’ll go get Asriel.” Toriel stands up and motions for the door. “We’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

No, seriously, why couldn’t he just say it over the phone?


	14. Highway to Ebott

What’s taking Asriel so long?

Aofil leans carefully back with their arms crossed on the front of Toriel’s car. It doesn’t set as much as a normal car would, probably because of the increased suspension. They’ve been waiting for ten minutes no. He should’ve been here right about ten minutes ago.

Is Toriel giving him a talk or something?

A car door slams shut behind them. Aofil turns their head around to see a car from the other side of the car park start to drive away.

How the hell did they slam that door so hard and not have it fall off?

Or perhaps-

Toriel’s car unlocks with two rapid honks, and Aofil flinches from the sound. As they step back, they catch a white creature at the corner of their eye. Asriel’s walking towards the car with the key ring spinning around his claw. 

“It’s open,” he says as he approaches the car, key ring still swinging around his claw, inching closer to the end of it.

“I know,” Aofil answers as they open the passenger door. They slid into the seat that’s too big for them. It’s very comfortable though, and the seat belt is adjustable enough so that it doesn’t strangle them, which is always a plus.

Asriel has to adjust, not only his seat, but the steering wheel as well. After a solid minute or so he finally feels comfortable enough to start the car. He slowly pulls out of the parking space, and makes his way towards the parking lot exit.

“Indica-”

“I got it,” Asriel interrupts, seamlessly hitting the indicator lever as he begins to turn the car.

He even looks both ways. Good.

Although, isn’t he turning the wrong way? He turned left before, now he’s going right. Aofil cranes their neck over Asriel. Yeah, they’re going the complete opposite way. Did Mt. Ebott move when Aofil was sleeping or something?

“The main road is done now,” Asriel informs without taking his eyes off the road. Aofil sees that his grip on the steering wheel is a bit relaxed this time. Bodes well. Seems like he’s been practicing his driving a bit more. Aofil takes the opportunity to lean their seat back. It squeaks a bit, must be the first time anyone’s done it in this car. Even with the extended leg room and widened seat they can’t imagine both Toriel and Asgore sitting in it at the same time. Perhaps with one in the backseat and one driving, but only perhaps. 

Gosh, they’d pay good money to see that. Gotta be hell on the suspension though. Even with just Aofil and Asriel inside it the car still fluctuates as it mounts a speed bump. 

“Can you plug in the charger, please?” Asriel asks while handing over his phone to Aofil.

“Sure,” they say as they take it from his hand. They scour the panel between the driver and passenger seat. Quite a myriad of things and stuff, Aofil barely knows what half of any of the things inside the panel is, if not more. After some deep spelunking Aofil finally spots a cable.

As they plug it in, the speakers in the car crack to life, as if waiting for this moment. Out of them loud rock riffs start playing, and Aofil quickly throws their hand against the volume dial. They spin it faster than the wheels of the car.

They rub their ear as they remove their other hand from it.

Asriel’s unfazed, because of course he is. Young people not caring about their ears. Typical.

Aofil’s gonna do their damnedest to try forget that they just thought of the phrase ‘young people’. Maybe a change of tone is in order, get that topic rolling away.

Tone.

Ringtone.

Phone.

Yes, there we go. 

“Why didn’t the Pastor just say what he wants to say over the phone? Still confused why we have to drive over to him.” Aofil blows their lips. “I mean, there’s no reason not to. If it’s as important as he says, won’t us knowing what it is make us more convinced to drive over? Only reason I can think of is that it is not important, but then why would he call?”

Asriel keeps quiet as a rather busy roundabout comes into view. Aofil tilts their head over. Yup, he’s nervous about it. “You want me to tell you when to drive into it?”

He shakes his head. “No.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel. His focus deepens, his breath steadies. He’s utterly determined.

Aofil throws up a hand as they shrug. “It’s just a roundabout.”

Their comment falls on deaf ears as Asriel eases the car to a stop. The engine purrs quietly as car after car passes in front of Asriel. He keeps his eyes locked on the curve left of him. Waiting for the opportune moment to-

The car lunges forward, spurting as it does. Asriel manages to keep the clutch balanced, but just barely, and the car stutters into the traffic. His mouth twists into a disappointed scowl. “Dammit.”

“You’re making too big a deal out of this. Stressing yourself out will only make the car stress itself out as well. If your hands are tense, so will your feet be, and no clutch be liking no tense foot.”

Asriel turns up onto the freeway, and after some careful checks over his shoulder, he merges into the traffic. Much smoother this time. He breathes out.

“I was the same when I got my license, Asriel. Dad gave me the advice I just gave you, and it helped me a lot.”

“Mom and dad have given me advice as well, but...” Asriel rubs his forehead with his hand, sighing as he does. “I want to call it helpful, but again...”

“When did they get their licenses? Did they have it Underground as well?” Aofil didn’t really see any car friendly roads last time they were down there. Didn’t really see any the times before either. They know Papyrus has been driving around down there, but with varying degrees of success. If Toriel trusts him with driving the kids though. Can’t be that bad.

“They got it a year or so ago,” Asriel informs while shifting lane to get past an 18-wheeler. Mettaton is portrayed lying down the entire length of the freight, on his side, with one leg bent. The frankly gaudy color scheme is as big a road hazard as any, if not more. His face eventually comes into view, as well as the speech bubble above his mouth. Through a seductive face comes a warning, but it’s more of a tease, considering the font and overall posture of Mettaton as he gives it.

“Warning, explosive and highly flammable fashion inside,” Aofil reads out loud. They shake their head immediately after. “Can’t really tell if it’s a serious warning or not.”

Asriel shrugs at the prospect. “It’s Mettaton.”

“Good point.” By the way… “Has he ever tried to get you to model for him?”

Asriel’s scoff almost has the car swirling across multiple lanes. He gets it under control, and clears his throat of the shock. Aofil checks the rear view mirror for any police, but they seem to be in the clear.

“Has he ever not tried to?” Asriel poses, despite not intending for it to be answered in the slightest. He tugs his striped shirt. “Apparently this isn’t good enough for a Prince such as I, and who wouldn’t be over Mt. Ebott to be appointed Royal Dresser per his own proposal? I just have to sign a few contracts, and then he’ll sort everything out.”

Sounds like Mettaton, alright. 

“I know you’ve done it,” Asriel continues. “You were on his collection reveal, right?”

“Not willingly.”

“Oh, that I could tell.”

“You a fan of fashion?” Aofil asks, but after the sour taste from their memory of the event, it comes out a bit accusatory. They cough once into their hand. “Not that it’s anything wrong with that. I’m not gonna lie and say that I didn’t feel pretty in what he dressed me up in.”

“You certainly did enjoy what Muffet was wearing.”

A loud cough from Aofil signifies the end of that subject of discussion. Change seems appropriate right about now. “Was the show on TV? I’m guessing as much considering the cameras and such.”

“Mom was watching in her office at the time. Well, not really watching, mostly having it on as background noise as she was doing paperwork,” Asriel explains after letting a car pass them irresponsibly fast. “I dropped by to just let her know about something, can’t remember exactly what, and then I glanced you and Muffet on the TV. You didn’t really look well, and then suddenly it cut to commercial just as Muffet shoot out of her chair. I didn’t say anything to mom because...well...”

Right, the evening before. There’s a bit more traffic this time around, what with it being in the middle of the day and all. They should come up on the place where Asriel stopped and stormed down to the beach in a bit too, if the road signs are anything to go by.

Again they’re driving to the church.

Aofil should probably visit their family now that they have the chance. Maybe it’ll help them get a bit more sense out of this.

Question is though, does Asriel want to talk with them as well? He mentioned it before. Aofil looks over to Asriel. He looks quite contemplative. Maybe he’s thinking of what to ask? If he’s gonna ask anything, that is.

“You have a guess what he wants with us?” Aofil poses after glancing the next road sign. A ways left, but it shouldn’t be too bad.

“How would I know?” Asriel asks back with a shrug. “I wasn’t the one that talked to him.”

“He did sound like what he said was important. Hopefully he didn’t faint from breathing as fast as he did. Personally, I’ve no idea. That worries me a bit though.”

“Same here, to be honest.” Asriel sighs calmly, letting the end of it peter out through his lips. “I asked Frisk,” Asriel continues with a nod back over his seat, “and they-”

He smacks his palm against his forehead, clashing it loudly. “Dammit,” he exhales under his breath. The small echo from him smacking his forehead has subsided by then though, so his curse is very much audible to Aofil.

They follow where Asriel was nodding. “Keep your eyes on the road,” Aofil says to Asriel turning his head timidly. He swears again as he turns it back.

There’s a very interesting pile of fabric behind Aofil’s seat. Oddly curled-up-human shaped. Aofil grabs the fabric, and pulls it away.

Their conflicted, borderline angry, expression follows their head as they turn forwards again with a tired sigh. “Sit up.” Aofil lets their frustration out along with a tired groan. “And put on a seat belt.”

Aofil rubs their forehead with an exhausted pinch as awkward shuffling takes place behind them. The seat belt warning turns on for a few seconds, before being silenced in conjunction with a metallic click. Aofil looks up into the rear view mirror. “Why?” they ask the stowaway.

Before the stowaway can answer, Aofil sends another question over to Asriel. “And you knew about it?”

Frisk heaves a defeated sigh from the backseat. They lean themselves against the window on their elbow, all the while thinking hard as to what to say. “I just...” They clearly need more time to articulate their excuse.

Aofil’s more interested in the explanation though, so again they ask Asriel. “Does Toriel know?”

“No,” Frisk answers. “Mom doesn’t know.” They meet Aofil’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “Can we keep it that way?”

“She doesn’t already know that you’ve skipped school?” Aofil finds that a bit hard to swallow. “You’re supposed to have a class now, right?”

“Moldessa covers for me.”

Alright, what? “How do you mean?”

“Gerson doesn’t have the best eye left, you know?” Saying that seems to have hurt Frisk a bit. “So right now I’m in the back, sitting next to Moldessa, according to him. He won’t notice that I’ve suddenly turned all slime-like. If he does, well,” Frisk throws a thumb over their shoulder, “we got some distance, and mom’s car.”

“It won’t outrun Papyrus’ though,” Aofil reminds. “He’ll be on our heel faster than Toriel. Pretty sure she’ll be throwing fireballs behind her in an attempt to speed up Papyrus’ car.” Something bigger is on Aofil’s mind though. It’s gnawing at them. A realization. A horrid one. Aofil smacks their lips once. “Have Moldessa done that at some of my lessons?” Aofil turns with a brow furrowed in half accusatory, half frightened. “And if so, how many?”

Frisk drags an imaginary zipper shut across their lips. “Get a warrant,” they say through it.

“But why-”

“I’m not gonna tell you how many times I’ve skipped school, Aofil.” Frisk throws up an accusatory hand. “You’ll relay that to mom.”

“I won’t-”

“Yes.” Frisk nods hard, equally as accusatory. “You will. I’ve already goofed it by confessing that I asked Moldessa to help, but I have other ways.” They snap their finger. “Shouldn’t have said that too...”

“Why skip school to begin with?”

Wow… How old has Aofil gotten? They were sincere in asking that question. Gotta have to ask Alphys to make them a cane the shape of Mettaton’s leg. Aofil leans back into their seat while sighing through their lips. Guess they have to take skateboard back up again.

“We don’t do it a lot,” Frisk tries as a defense.

Aofil’s not old enough to fail picking up on words though. They shimmer their eyes over to Asriel. “We?”

He sighs while shaking his head tiredly. He holds a vacant look for a moment, possibly to steel himself. “When I was...Flowey, I spent time, well, reading. Learning. Just for a way to find out how I could help myself. The more I learned though, the more I learned that I couldn’t help myself. I learned a lot, I learned practically everything there was to learn in the Underground. Still remember some of it, so the classes about magic, the Underground, and such, I’ve already learned to the best of my abilities.”

Asriel holds out a hand that he flexes. After a few seconds of severe tensing, a faint flame appears, only to be blown away by the calm air conditioning. Asriel takes a few deep breaths to recover before he begins to talk again. “And since the best of my abilities was that, I figured that I could do something more useful with my time. Like exercise, or learn how to be an actual prince, or perhaps just learn how to finally do hammer downs on my guitar without the luxury of friction that skin gives.”

One of those things aren’t like the other, but Aofil knows that Asriel would rather talk about the time he died with his best friend before discussing what it’s like being a prince, so for the time being it’s probably best to let that one slide.

However!

“And you?” Aofil asks over their shoulder. “Your excuse disguised as explanation?”

Frisk takes a quick glance to see that Asriel’s busy not looking. They throw their eyes back to Aofil, hard. They mouth a single word.

“Chara.”

Aofil also glances over to Asriel, but he seems busy enough leaning against his knuckles and driving, what Aofil would say too leisurely in any other case, but for now it’s fine. 

“I’m just a quick learner,” Frisk says directly after. “Something I also picked up in the Underground.”

To that, Asriel shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he shook it speaks volume to the mention of the Underground before the Barrier broke. Guess that’s the lesser of two evils, especially when it comes to Chara.

Chara can’t help Frisk anymore though, right? Frisk can talk to Aofil no problem which must mean that Chara is, at most, a faint specter. They still only have Frisk’s word on that, and Chara’s, and Chara’s word that it really was Chara’s word, and…

Either way, Aofil can’t really ask Frisk about it right now, not with Asriel nearby. What they’d love to know though is why Frisk decided to sneak on board.

“Why even skip school to begin with, Frisk? Curiosity?”

“Yeah.”

Fair enough then. 

There’s something else Aofil would like to know too.

“How’s the Underground fairing these days? I know you don’t really think of it so highly before the Barrier broke, but how is it now? Been a while since I visited.”

“It’s fine,” Asriel says with a shrug. “Monsters have moved out, and not a lot of humans have moved in. There are still a few places left that are populated, mostly to keep the CORE up and running.”

Hang on. “Wasn’t the CORE supposed to be decommissioned, or at least shut down? I vaguely remember Toriel saying something about that when we first met.” Aofil taps on their leg as they think. “Yeah, something about that.”

“Cheap and efficient electricity powering Mt. Ebott, and the city around it,” Asriel explains while motioning to the mountain in the distance. “Kept around for that, and with monsters running it along with a few humans. Mostly the reason why monsters still live down in the Underground. Well,” Asriel puts his hand back on the steering wheel, “that and MTT Resort.”

“A popular place for humans to experience monster culture?” Aofil hazards as a guess. Not as quite flamboyant as Mettaton would call it, but it should get the point across. “Is Burgerpants still working there?”

“He’s disappeared without a trace,” Frisk answers. “Took off as soon as Mettaton turned his back on him. I would know, I helped him with that.”

Guess that was just a matter of time before Burgerpants would do that. 

“And yes, that’s what Mettaton advertises down in the Underground.” Frisk arcs their hands into a colorless rainbow. “Come and experience genuine monster culture and cuisine.”

“Without the whole stealing human souls, that is,” Asriel adds. “So it’s up to you if that disqualifies it as genuine monster culture.”

From the sound of it, Asriel could’ve chosen his words better. The tense finally snapped, it seems. Already. They haven’t even reached the Pastor, and it’s already snapped. Asriel curls his lips inwards as a heavy awkwardness fills the car. Glances are traded between all three of the car’s inhabitants, and a unanimous decision is made without a word.

Hush, for now.

The silence holds for quite a while before being involuntarily by Asriel cursing under his breath for missing a turn.

“Two roads down and then make a right,” Aofil offers. “We’ll arrive on the other side, that way.”

More importantly though, they get to see their old lawn.

At every stoplight, Asriel pulls down the flap designed to shield the driver from the sun. Seeing that the sun is behind the car though, Aofil hazards that it’s more for keeping the humans and monsters outside from seeing in and discovering that the prince is driving around.

Asriel flips up the flap again as the light turns green. He has to check the light to the right to see it flipped as the one on his left is covered by the flap.

“Left?” Aofil taps the passenger window with their knuckles. “Why didn’t you take a right like the sign said?”

“This skips having to drive through the city center,” Asriel explains calmly. “It’s gonna be a nightmare there, so I’d rather not.”

“Okay,” Aofil answers.

That means that they won’t see their old lawn again though. Perhaps on the way home instead.

A few minutes later the church finally comes into view. Aofil can’t help but feel a bit insecure laying eyes on the glistening white exterior, maybe frightened? It’s not sitting well with them, that’s for certain. 

What did the Pastor find?

The gravel scrunches underneath the tires as Asriel carefully puts the car into park. He unbuckles himself and steps out to stretch his legs and arms. Aofil does the same. But where’s-

“Greetings, Aofil. Prince.”

Aofil turns around with their arm locked behind their other one behind their neck to see the Pastor sauntering up gracefully to the car. His hands are clasped together, but they’re very tense. His breathing is calming down. Has he been anxious about this as well?

Besides on the phone, that is.

“I do apologize for summoning you over here on such a short notice. As you may know, the Queen and King asked me to compare the old records kept by us humans with the ones down in the Underground in preparation for Frisk’s birthday.”

Aofil and Asriel look at each other. Both shake their head. They’ve both no clue.

The Pastor isn’t fazed by that. “In doing so, I came upon a reference that’s present in both the monster and human records. It details the human mages that sealed the Barrier.”

Aofil and Asriel again trade glances. This time though, it’s a bit more...well, not curious, but something close by.

“Specifically, their lineage. It’s been a debate regarding who those mages were, and what they left behind for humanity.”

The pastor’s head slowly turns over to the graveyard. His mouth quivers as his words fail him. It’s almost as if he’s disappeared, despite standing just in front of Aofil and Asriel. He doesn’t even hear Frisk getting out of the car and walking up to listen in.

“One mage left behind a family,” the Pastor finally manages to say. “A family that...” He puts his balled knuckle up to his mouth. “That I cursed.”

Aofil’s eyes widen. No…

No, don’t. 

Don’t say it!

The Pastor turns back to Aofil. 

“Your family.”


	15. Delving deeper to get up the top of the tree

“If you would kindly follow me downstairs into the library.”

Why is it always in the dang basement? Why can’t it be upstairs?

The old wooden door screeches as it’s open, almost as if it’s in pain. A winding staircase that seems to be older than time itself leads the way downstairs. A cold draft sweeps up, flickering the torches lit on the outer side of the spiral leading down.

The pastor hurries down, faster than Aofil could ever imagine someone his age would, and could.

“Please forgive me for the torches,” the Pastor sends up the staircase. “The electrical system down here is quite unreliable, and I’ve been having troubles getting it to work in conjuncture with magical electricity without fizzling out and sparking like it’s possessed. It’s been a while since I had anyone else down here, so it isn’t the biggest of priorities. I’ve put in an order through the CORE engineers though, so it shouldn’t be too long now?”

“I don’t think he’s noticed me yet,” Frisk whispers to a very uncomfortably hunching Asriel trying to do his best not to get his horns stuck on the low ceiling and his ears and shoulders safely away from the naked torches. He sends back a look that could freeze the open flames back to Frisk, who diverges it to Aofil.

“Why did you find out about this now and not before, again?” they ask further downstairs to the Pastor. “You’ve had the books here for quite a while, right?”

“You could say that.”

“Any from before the Barrier?”

No answer.

Guess that no books existing from before the Barrier was a lie then. Aofil had a subtle suspicion the size of Mt. Ebott before, but now it’s pretty much confirmed.

Or he didn’t hear Aofil asking.

“Frisk’s eighteenth birthday is just over yonder,” the Pastor’s echo explains through some rusty sounds of even older doors being opened. “And for that, the Queen and King asked me to research their human family.”

Asriel almost trips over their sibling as Frisk stops in the middle of their step, frozen, with eyes that pierces through the stone stairs, and through the Earth’s core. Asriel manages to catch his balance by throwing his palms out on either side against the walls.

Sacrificing himself and his shoulders to absolve Frisk of his weight tumbling down the narrow and hard stairs. Arms outstretched on either side, and pain painting his gritted expression.

You could make a reli-

“I was granted access to many an old archives down in the Underground,” the Pastor’s echo continues from below, albeit more distant. “A pilgrimage to discover the shared history lost to time, if you will. It was a humbling experience, and a thoughtful one. I look forward to doing it again someday.”

Frisk flinches violently as Asriel puts a careful hand on their shoulder. He retracts it as Frisk spins their head around while breathing heavily. “S-sorry,” they say after their brain manages to conclude that it’s just Asriel’s gentle hand. “Sorry...”

Aofil stands with one foot on the bottom floor and one foot on the last stair step. They take a step up, but Frisk puts their hand out. “I’m fine,” they say with a careful exhale. “...I’m fine.” Behind them Asriel is shaking his head, but Aofil didn’t need that to confirm to themselves that Frisk is lying about feeling fine. Not when their face is almost as pale as Aofil’s is. It’s like they’ve seen a ghost, or heard of one, in this case.

And Frisk that’s so used to ghosts by now, with Blookie, and Mettaton, and who knows how many other ghost monsters.

Those aren’t a specter of their past though.

“The Underground is a very lovely place, by the way, Prince Asriel. Your father and mother have done good with it.”

Asriel again shakes his head, but this time it’s for himself. Another specter unearthed. Guess the graveyard stretches all the way down here. Left buried, only to be dug up, and the less than favorable revelations it brings.

“Do bring my deepest, and most sincere, thanks to your father for the escort he arranged. I don’t mean to sound rude, but the proposal did strike me as odd. I don’t want to say insulting, but I won’t say that I didn’t feel such when I first heard his offer.”

Asriel finishes massaging his forehead with his hands with a sigh. “He can be a bit of a traditionalist sometimes,” Asriel answers the echo accompanied with an upbeat chuckle. Completely feigned, and the furrowed expression coupled with his jolly chuckle that he’s gotten from Asgore is quite jarring to witness. “If you felt insulted, please accept my apologies on his behalf. He personally invited you to explore the Underground, and as a King, he wouldn’t be showing his hospitality should he leave you alone there without a guide of sorts. I do understand that it could be seen, and taken, as an insult, but I’m sure my father meant for you to feel welcomed. He was honored that you accepted his proposal, and he wanted to show it.”

Asriel returns to his massaging of his forehead.

That’s the first time Aofil’s seen Asriel act anything near a prince. They shake their head to make sure that they’re awake.

“I’ve no doubts about that, young Prince,” the Pastor answers back along with a similar upbeat chuckle. “My mood was shifted quite drastically when...” A loud and wishful sigh flows throughout the basement, almost extinguishing the torches. “When the monster presented herself as my escort. Dogoressa, of the Royal Guard. She...” Another sigh sweeps through the basement. “She reminded me of a dog I had when I was but a child. I know it’s something I shouldn’t do, equate monsters to animals, but...”

A single sob finds its way up the staircase.

“She even wagged her tail the same way when I gave her a pat on her head. Her fur felt the same, down to each and every hair. She called me a pup when we first met, just like how mother described to me how my old Tindra used to think of me as. Unlike Tindra though, Dogoressa apologized for the slip of her tongue, but by that time I had already traveled back to my youth, so I didn’t think anything else of it.”

The Pastor chuckles for himself, filling the basement with a childlike wonder.

“Walking together with Dogoressa, it gave me energy I thought was lost to me because of my age, but here I was, gladly walking along and keeping Dogoressa’s pace. Thinking back, it gives me hope for the future of our collective living. Such symbiosis, human and monster, side by side, lost for so many years, but finally back together.”

Aofil can’t help but smile at the unfiltered hope oozing from the Pastor’s voice. They glance up at Frisk and Asriel, who both have managed to drag small smiles themselves.

It’s good. They should all take it as such.

“It’s a miracle I could even focus on my research. Granted, we did take a bit longer of a walk...” The Pastor clears his throat. “We took a bit longer of a walk for me to enjoy the sights, as Dogoressa so gently put it.”

Frisk and Asriel manage their way to the bottom of the stairs. They both look left and right, and then look to Aofil.

Right…

Maybe they should’ve listened from where the echo came from. Aofil puts up their index finger in the air. The Pastor’s bound to say something else any second now.

“Just like Tindra...”

They bend their finger down in the direction the Pastor’s voice came from, and the trio sets off. Aofil do sure wonder why the Pastor bothered to lit both diverging paths with torches, and not just the one leading to the library. Maybe he’s had business down the other way.

“Prince Asriel, you wouldn’t know where Dogoressa is stationed, would you?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Asriel replies to the echo. They’re nearing it. Must just be around the corner. “I can’t make any promises about it though. I’m sure that if you were to pen a goodly worded letter, my father would take it into consideration.”

“I thank you for that, Prince Asriel, from the bottom of my soul.”

The Pastor is around two corners, to be precise, standing with a key ring in his hands, flipping through them like an uninteresting book. He mumbles under his breath, counting each use for the keys. There are a few mentions of dungeons and cells, a bit too many for Aofil’s taste.

That is to say, any mention at all.

“Ah!” the Pastor finally exclaims, his voice bouncing against the wall like a pinball ball thrown by an angry Undyne. “Here it is.” He waves the key to the three figures behind him. Wait a second… Three?

“Frisk?” he asks, confused. “What are you...What are you doing here? I didn’t summon for you.”

Frisk smiles while putting a hand behind their neck. Aofil has to fight their eyes from rolling out of their skulls. Frisk has done a few too many anime nights with Undyne and Alphys if they think that’s appropriate to do. “I...I...” Frisk stutters as they think.

They even pause between talking like in Alphys’ animes. Aofil should probably bring that up with Toriel. First they have to make sure the Pastor doesn’t smell foul play, but Frisk has kinda fallen on the first hurdle at that, with the hurdle being a very smelly trashcan.

“I took them with me,” Aofil steps in to explain. Although, maybe they should’ve thought about how to explain before doing so… They glance over to the two kids standing with bated breath, looking anxiously at Aofil. “It...I took Frisk with me because the two of them are inseparable, and they always bring another perspective to things. Might help with the direness, should it appear.”

Not the best explanation and or excuse, but it’ll have to do. Not really more Aofil can think of. Nothing that they would like to say to the Pastor, that is.

“I guess.” The Pastor runs his eyes back and forth over Frisk and Asriel, who both smile as innocently as they can. “As long as you’re comfortable with this, Aofil.”

Guess they have to be. “I am.”

The Pastor lets slip the upright key, and it falls into his fingers. The lock that turns sounds very old, but also very robust. Cast iron, judging by the strain the Pastor undergoes to open the door. He motions for the trio to enter.

The library smells...like an old library, funnily enough. Too old, even. Doesn’t even smell like books inside, but some form of parchment, and very unfamiliar ink. The soft light of the surrounding torches gives very poor lighting though. The Pastor must be straining his eyes reading in this darkness.

“Seems that I’ve misplaced my hook.” The Pastor turns to Asriel while pointing upwards. “Would you kindly, Prince Asriel?”

From the roof hangs a large plastic container, like one you bring on a camping trip. On it is a taped on flashlight, which Asriel just barely manages to flick on, causing an explosion of light that illuminates the entirety of the library as the water inside the container begins to glow brightly.

“An old trick I learned as a boy while camping with Tindra and my family,” the Pastor explains with a proud chuckle. “If you fill a large enough container you could white out an entire neighborhood.”

“Should you really have a large body of water dangling above all of these ancient texts?” Asriel asks with a bit of worry peeking through in his voice as he puts a hand up to stop the swinging caused by him flicking on the flashlight.

“You’re correct, Prince, but it is what I have at the moment. I’m just as worried as you are about the texts being destroyed, which is why I’ve moved the tables away from it.”

Aofil second guess as to why the tables are positioned in a strange half circle would’ve been for a ritual of sorts. They’re not sure if they could handle one right about now.

The Pastor sits down at a table filled with rolled up scrolls and opened books. From his frock he produces a pair of thick spectacles that he so gracefully flips open and slide up his nose. He motions for two chairs positioned on the other side. “Please.”

Asriel brings with him a third chair for himself as he beckons for Frisk to sit next to Aofil. He sits down very carefully on his chair, as even Aofil’s weight made it creak. His knees almost touch his chin, but he makes the best out of it.

The Pastor opens up a scroll and turn it over for his guests to see. “Are you schooled in this, my Prince?”

Aofil’s never seen these symbols in their entire life, and judging by the perplexed faces of the children on their right, so haven’t Frisk nor Asriel. The Pastor keeps the scroll facing the trio as he closes his books with a thumb to keep where he was as he checks the titles of the books. “This one is from the ages before the Barrier, when humans and monsters lived together. One of the few scrolls translated from monster to human, back in the day.”

The Pastor finally finds the book he’s been looking for, and he slides that one over as well. “This is the translation.”

Aofil’s brow furrows low as they glance the title.

“A Maiden Vowage,” they read out loud with borderline disgust.

“The literal translation is ‘Made In Love’,” the Pastor informs, a bit too proud for the subject matter. “It details, what it considers, important information in how to seduce maiden’s of the era.” He puts his fingers on the top of the scroll. “Quote, a helpful navigation of maidens and the seducing thereof, for the most common commoner, to the proudest of princes, unquote.”

Asriel’s eyes meet the Pastor’s.

“You wouldn’t suppose that your father took help of this?” the Pastor asks friendly, but with brimming curiosity.

“I’m not going to ask him,” comes a quick, and emotionless, response.

“Fair.”

“So,” Frisk finally says, after a silent minute of comparing paragraphs, “this is what helped you translate, Pastor?”

The Pastor spins another book around. A more modern one, and scribbled with handwriting. “With it I’ve managed to translate the old scripture into something legible for today. Something that I found very curious was that the magic usage was almost translated word by word, barring a few changes about the soul.” The pastor taps his finger on the scroll. “The monsters put emphasis on it being from their being.” He moves his finger over to the old book. “Whereas the humans put emphasis on it being from their soul. There are a few changes regarding skin, fur, scales, and the likes, but that’s not important.”

The Pastor sweeps the table, knocking down everything except a parchment and three books. “This is why I summoned you.” He pushes forward the parchment. “This is a document detailing a visit one of the mages paid a monster friend of his. The tone of it is, grim, both clearly knowing that it were to be their last meal together. What you’re looking for though, is this.” The Pastor runs his finger over a series of symbols. “This is the name of the mage.”

Aofil glances back and forth between the Pastor’s translation of the symbols and the parchment. The first name they can say, but that last name…It would twist their tongue tighter than a master scout’s knot.

“Cter,” they read.

“You parents wanted to name you Cter, Aofil. It was between Cter and Aofil when I met you for the first time. However, I persuaded them otherwise.”

“How so?”

“There are more letter in the alphabet than ‘C’. How many families do you know of that has more than one child that starts with the same letter?”

Good point.

“It does strengthen my theory.” The Pastor flips open a book, and slides it to Aofil. “This is a record of the families in this city. It dates back a couple hundred years.” He slides over another. “And a couple more.” And another. “And a couple more. Follow your tree back, Aofil. See where it leads.”

Aofil runs their finger up their mother’s line.

“Your father, sorry,” the Pastor corrects.

Aofil switches branches, running their finger past their father.

“Then mother,” the Pastor says again.

Up the tree.

“Father.”

Further up.

“Then mother.”

Even further.

“Mother and mother.”

The book ends, and Aofil moves over to the next one. They only now realize that neither them, Asriel, or Frisk, has taken a single breath during the process.

“Father.”

The word echoes around in the room.

“Mother.”

As Aofil’s finger climbs the tree.

“Father, mother, father.”

Slithering like a snake up the lines drawn, through names Aofil’s never heard of, but that they share blood with.

“We’re actually related, you and I, from where your finger is now, Aofil. However, it’s on the mother’s side, whereas you need to continue the father’s family.”

The second book draws to an end.

“This is where you have to pay attention to the last name, Aofil. Not only on your family line, but the ones around as well. Let me show you.” The Pastor flips through the last book. The old pages proving inefficient, as they almost crumble just by the Pastor touching them.

“See here.” The Pastor taps various names on the page he’s on. “See how the last name of these people are vaguely the same, but with a couple of letters jumbled, and a couple changed out? My theory is that it was planned. To gradually remove the name of the mages out of history so that the monsters would remain sealed. The war would fade over time, and turn into legend, but the more immediate threat of someone discovering the family of the mages would require their names to be forgotten much quicker.”

With a final flick back to where Aofil’s family continued, the Pastor motions for Aofil to finish their journey. “Two fathers and a mother left, Aofil. Then tell me what you find.”

Aofil’s finger slows down to a stunned crawl as it nears the top of the branch. “Cter,” they read in a whisper.

Again.

No…

No, that’s too much.

“I’m afraid it is so, Aofil,” the Pastor says carefully as he reads Aofil’s feigning expression. “You are a descendant of one of the mages that created the Barrier.” He turns his head even more carefully over to Asriel. “And so was Chara.”

Aofil returns to the scroll again. They bring along the translation book. Something has to-

The Pastor puts his hand on the book. “I’ve checked it multiple times, Aofil.”

But Aofil hasn’t! They jank the book away from the Pastor’s grasp.

“The prophecy...” Asriel whispers quietly, his breathing turning into short gasps. “It’s...”

The Pastor nods. “Aofil’s family is-”

“Shut up!” Aofil slams their hand on the table. “We’re not confirming anything until I’ve done this myself!”

The Pastor, Frisk, and Asriel all recoil back from Aofil’s outrage. It shut them up though, so it did its purpose. Aofil returns to the name again.

C...t...e...r

Aofil drags their finger harder on the scroll as they translate again.

C...t...e...r

Dammit!

“This explains so much, Aofil,” the Pastor offers friendly. “It should be a relief. Believe it to be.”

Aofil fringe casts a dark shadow over their eyes as they snap their head up to the Pastor. “It means that there is another goddamn revelation about my family,” they say with a vicious snarl. “One was too many, and I’ve had more than a handful. I’m sick and tired of everything being dug up and displayed, pranced around with the dead that should’ve be long buried. It’s I that I have to deal with the consequences, the meaning of it all, and it is I that have to lay awake at night pondering what it means, if it means anything.”

Aofil drags a couple of long and anxious breaths. “So just let me do this. Please!”

After a couple of silent seconds, the Pastor nods. “As you wish.”

“Thank you.”

Aofil returns to the scroll, but this time to the last name of Cter. Their finger press against the scroll, and each letter again spell out the same name as the one at the top of Aofil’s family tree. Aofil’s fingers finds their way up to the bridge of their nose, which they pinch hard.

“Dammit...”

They remove their finger and-

Wait…

Their fingers. They’re black? Aofil rubs them together.

Ink?

They look down at the scroll again, and their eyes widen.

“How was the scroll written, Pastor?” Aofil shoots their widened eyes over to the Pastor.

“From what I can tell it’s some form of magic. It’s been pristine all these years, and no ink could...”

The Pastor’s words fail him as Aofil shows their stained fingers, as well as their painted nose bridge. He lunges out of his chair, and throws his hand over the table, snatching the scroll hastily. He flinches as he reads the bottom of it. “No...What?” He drags his finger like Aofil did, and stares at his blackened finger. He does the same across the rest of the paragraphs written on the scroll, but all is does is smear the ink he already has on his finger until it eventually dries out.

“Only the last name...”

The Pastor falls down into his chair again while staring at his finger.

“It’s not even close now with the ink gone...Not even close to your forefather’s name.”

The Pastor blinking visage finds Aofil’s heavily breathing one.

“You’re not a descendant, Aofil.”

Aofil’s lips begin to tug.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” The Pastor mouth begins to stretch impatiently. “F-forgive me for c-calling you here. I-I...I’m sorry.”

Aofil’s smile shines brighter than the home brewed lantern hanging above.

“Don’t be.”


	16. In the shade of the family tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra birthday chapter!

“Oh boy...”

Aofil’s tailbone almost cracks as if hit by a sledgehammer as they fall heavily into the bench. Gravel shoots out from the heel of their shoes as they push their legs forward tiredly. Their arms flop out over the backrest, and their neck finds rest on it as well.

“Do I really have to tell you what happened, or did you feel it yourselves? Wait...”

Aofil rolls their head over to the side so that the church comes back into view. They trace where the stairs leading down would be, two spirals down, and then…

No, the underground corridors trailed off to the other side of the graveyard.

“Guess I have to be the one carrying the bad news that we’re not related to one of the mages that created the Barrier. Maybe we’re related to the others, but not Cter.”

The aspen flusters.

Aofil leans forwards with their fingers pressing against their mirrored counterpart. “I know, right, what a bummer,” they say with a chuckle amid their sigh. 

They shake their head. 

“Can’t even muster enough to make it sound at the least like I’m not lying about feeling down about it.” With another chuckle, Aofil lifts their gaze up to the gravestones across the gravel road. “Would’ve explained your magic, dad, if anything.”

The aspen’s leafs die down, with only a small whisper audible from it. The light shining through the gaps between the leafs bob gently on the headstones, framing the last name of the ones that left Aofil behind.

If Aofil squints hard enough they can almost see their last name being somewhat close to that of Cter. Not the language she would’ve written it though. It would take quite a bit of weathering for the text on Aofil’s family’s tombstones to even come close to looking like those old symbols.

Oh, that’s a morbid thought.

“Cter and Chara,” Aofil says out loud as the wind picks up. “Can’t say that I would be opposed to having that name. It would stop people from asking whether the emphasis is one the ‘o’ or the ‘i’, for instance.” They turn their head over to their mother. “I’m not saying that you chose wrong.” And then their father. “Or you. Whoever suggested it between you two. Or whoever turned it down.”

Aofil leans back again. “Did you have any other ideas for Chara? Maybe a name of one of the other mages? The Pastor didn’t mention it, so I’m guessing not. It would’ve taken more than me finding out about the ink to convince him, should that have been the case. One suggested name being the same as the one of some ancient mage had is a coincidence, two might’ve been a bit more than a coincidence. Or maybe he doesn’t know the names of the other mages. Who knows?”

A leaf detaches from one of the furthest branches of the aspen, sailing gently down like, well, a leaf in the wind. It lands on the bench next to Aofil. They pick the leaf up and begin writing an imaginary parchment with the stem of it. “That ink though.” They tip the stem in an empty ink container made out of air. Aofil then inspects the stem, and the invisible ink dripping from it. “I wonder how old it is. Didn’t seem modern. Not that I would know,” Aofil adds while circling their hand, flicking their imaginary ink as they do so. “The Pastor did seem to though.”

Aofil writes Cter’s name on the make-believe parchment. Her first name. “Cter, the powerful mage that helped sealed the monsters.” And her last name. “Who had a monster friend in the midst of it all. The monster penned her a letter, ending it with well wishes, despite knowing what was about to happen. They were good friends, but they were good friends on two side of a conflict that flared into a war to decide the future of the Surface.”

Aofil finishes penning the letter, punctuating Cter’s name with a dot of their wrist.

“I already know who won the war, we all do.” Aofil glances over to Frisk and Asriel sitting on a swing each on the playground next to the church gently rocking back and forth. They seem to be talking too, albeit with a more responsive other party. Guess they’re done talking with the Pastor by now. “That war’s long behind us though, but it wouldn’t have been when the ink was written. That much the Pastor could deduce by comparing it to some other books he had.”

Aofil rubs their fingers together after placing their leaf pen behind their ear. “Not the most waterproof of proofs, but I’ll take it. I’ll take it even with the mountain of salt to rival Ebott as a side order. What’s nibbling at my mind though is why someone would change Cter’s last name. All the ink did was close some of the symbols, so it could’ve just been a child coloring.”

As the wind throws itself at Aofil’s face, they can do nothing else but nod. “Yeah, I’m not so keen on that theory either. Another one I have is that some relative of Cter wanted to hide their own identity. It would coincide with the Pastor’s theory of the last names slowly morphing away from Cter’s and the other mages’. It could also be that one of my ancestors was a real diva to match Mettaton.” Aofil leans forward to the graves. “Mettaton is a monster that believes himself to be brighter than the Sun, just for context.” They lean back. “So maybe that one ancestor changed the name to bring fame to themselves, and their family.”

A more comforting wind dances around Aofil. “Yeah, I’d rather the first one happened too.” Despite the comforting wind, Aofil feels the need to readjust themselves on the bench. Their last theory is… “I have one more theory, and that is that someone wanted to frame us, or bring some sort of malicious intent. I can’t figure out what that would incite though. Maybe another of your predecessors knew magic too, dad? It’s either that or someone knew about Chara and the Underground even before we did. The Pastor is the only one I could remotely think of, but he was the one inviting me and Asriel over! So that would make no damn sense!”

Aofil throws their arms up so haphazardly that they almost pop out of their sockets. “Or maybe Cter changed her last name to ours and we really are related!”

The bench’s legs sink down a bit more into the ground as Aofil’s hands come crashing down on it. They grunt, half from the pain, and half just because they have to after saying all of this. A very tired raspberry flops out of Aofil’s mouth, flicking thick drops of spit onto the gravel below them.

“And that’s just one of the things that has happened today...”

A silent gust picks up Aofil’s fringe only to drop it back down on their forehead a moment later. They look around to make sure it wasn’t Sans, and then sit up straight.

“Things have happened since the last time we spoke, but I’m pretty sure you’ve guessed that by now.” 

Another leaf falls from the branch above them and lands on Aofil’s face.

“Right…” Aofil clears their throat. “Since last we spoke, I’ve...” They bring forth their arm. “I’ve come to terms with some things,” Aofil explains while running their fingers through their fur. “I’ve decided to move back to the monsters. I had to move away, and I would do it again if I could go back and make that decision again. I just couldn’t be near anything that would remind me. I was running away from inevitability though, with both my legs tied together.”

A conflicted sigh competes with the warm wind stroking Aofil’s cheek. They feel it heat up, but only because of the wind. Not their curse. That one’s gone now. “That too, actually. It wasn’t a curse, it was just my broken soul. It’s whole now, thanks to Asriel.” Aofil nods over to the Boss Monster rocking back and forth on his swing. “He’s sealed me up with a piece of his soul, and in return he got to use the sliver that escaped when you healed me, dad. I’m getting ahead of myself though.”

Aofil’s head bobs slowly as they try and think how they’re gonna structure this.

“Once I found out that it was all because of me that I was feeling what I was feeling, I...I lashed out. When Alphys found no trace of any form of curse, that I only had a normal red soul, it...it just wasn’t compatible with how I felt about it. It couldn’t be true, because then I would’ve been wrong.” Aofil’s lips drag into a conflicted smile. “Turns out I was wrong though.”

They sigh again to try and calm themselves down. “Afterwards I met with Chara.”

The wind stops.

“Yup, I had the same reaction.” Aofil chuckles gently at the similarity. “Chara...” Their smile fades just as quickly as it formed. “Chara wished you well.”

A deaf man could hear Aofil’s lie.

A blind woman could see the lie on their face.

A mute man would call out their bullshit.

But the wind…

It surrounds Aofil, like a gingerly hug, just as warm as if it was real.

“Chara wished you well...”

They won’t push that lie any further though.

It would probably wake the dead if they did, and not in a good way. Not like Asriel, that is.

“With Chara’s help I managed to finally muster enough strength to sit down and talk with the monsters. It was good. I needed to cry.”

Aofil dries away a tear from their eye.

“Guess I need to now as well.”

They remove one from their other eye as well.

“Then Undyne and Alphys installed legs on the house.”

Again the wind stops.

“Yup, same reaction here too.”

Aofil lifts their head. “I swear it is true,” they plead to the headstones. “The house is no longer in this city, it’s in the Monster City. Walked the entire length. It has a personality, despite Alphys saying that it doesn’t, and almost all of the furniture inside follow the same pattern.”

The wind keeps still.

“I swear this is true!” Aofil pleads again with their hands gesturing wildly. “I wouldn’t be able to make that up even if I tried! The legs are pink and black too! Why would I ever in my entire life conjure them up to be those two colors?”

The aspen rattles for just a moment, almost like a snicker that managed to escape.

“Thank you!” Aofil joins with their own snicker. “First night I slept in it, first night I slept well for years, calm, relaxed, I dreamed the strangest dream I’ve head in my entire life. I dreamed that the monsters transformed into human women. Was very strange...”

Aofil clears their throat again.

“Anyways, from that day forward I’ve done progress with myself. I’m back to teaching at Toriel’s school, and it’s been going fine. Barring that one time I almost set the roof on fire.” Aofil extends their index finger. “Almost!” they repeat. “Which did settle the debate whether or not the insulation above the roof panels contained asbestos, so at least we got something out of it, even if it’s lung cancer.”

Aofil’s arms cross as they lean back again in the bench. 

“I guess that’s better than the entire school being engulfed in flames, but we’ll see later should any long term effects come into play.”

Aofil clears their throat for a third time.

“Guess long term is now. Could also be the dry and cold air in the church library. I’ll ask Toriel if she can’t heal it up when I return home.” Aofil leans forward with an eager grin stretching their cheeks. “You should’ve seen her face when I first allowed her to heal me proper after I smashed my thumb with a hammer when I tried to repair a plank that came loose during the house’s marathon to Monster City.”

Aofil extends their pristine thumb with no indication of ever being hit by a hammer. “I had Alphys disable the pain subroutine on the house while mine was firing on all cylinders. Afterwards I had Toriel heal my thumb. Few things have shone brighter than her face when I asked her, I gotta tell you. She might’ve felt a bit of Asriel’s presence when she did though, which reminds me.”

Aofil saunters their thumb over Asriel’s way. 

“How about I muddle the family tree even further?”

The aspen shakes viciously.

“Right, yes. Sorry, things have been moving so fast I’m not sure whats appropriate any more,” Aofil sighs out with a hand massaging their forehead. “My head is too full with all that’s happened it doesn’t have room anymore.”

Aofil lets the wind envelope them for a while before beginning again.

“Alright.” They put a hand over their chest. “You see, when Asriel came back, he came back with the sliver of soul left behind when you healed me, dad. I guess it dragged the fusion out of me, or something. You could make any wild explanation in the world and it would sound plausible to me. If him having my soul inside of him technically makes him your son is up to you to decide. Toriel and Asgore still claims him as their own, so there might be some debate if you decide to make him your own as well.”

The wind rustles the aspen almost like a mix between a sigh and a chuckle. Aofil joins it.

“Would make him and Chara siblings for real, which I’m sure he would’ve wanted before. Not sure what he wants now, but we’ll find out soon enough when I decide to wave him over. If I decide to,” Aofil corrects. “I’ve had enough revelations today to last two lifetimes for normal humans, but normality isn’t really a thing when you live in the same neighborhood that I do, and have the friends I have.”

Aofil arms once again find themselves crossed over their chest, and their face sunken down in realized defeat. “Worst part of it is that I find it normal myself. Of course there’s never a normal and quiet lunch, not when I still insist on buying the expensive ketchup which Sans seems so fond of. Not when I decide to eat outside on my patio in full view of Undyne as she works out in her backyard. Not when I tell myself that it’s only because I get free food that I go to Muffet’s Spider Cafe.”

Aofil fringe bounces up and down as they chuckle to themselves.

“Or when I agree to take care of her pet in an attempt to solicit information using a translator built by a monster and lent over to another monster who used it for cleaning purposes. You know, the usual Sunday afternoon.” Aofil shrugs their shoulders. “And also your house is standing in a half insulted squat because your neighbor decided to call it rude names. Everyone has a house that gets insulted when your friend points out the flaking paint on its knots, right?” Aofil asks with their arms spread wide.

No answer.

“Right...”

Aofil’s neck starts itching from the dust that fell on it down under the church. The sweat from the warm sun irritates a bit, it seems.

“I said before that I would make the same choice when I moved away,” Aofil says after dragging their hand to get the worst of the dust away from their neck. “Now that I’m back though, I wouldn’t want to trade it away. I’d like less revelations that shake the foundation of my understanding of the world, sure, but the monsters, they’re a part of me now.”

Aofil taps their chest. “Literally as well.” Their tapping calms down until their hand rests still. “Don’t take this the wrong way now.” Aofil inhales long through their nose as they clutch their shirt. “But...I feel like they’re my family.”

The wind in the aspen moves through it like thick syrup, like it’s suddenly sapped of strength. The calm rustling hangs in the air for a long while before the wind picks up again, sending another leaf that lands in Aofil’s hair.

“You will always be my family, but...you’re dead, and the monsters can give me the warmth you can’t right now. I talked about replacing you last time we spoke, and I still don’t want to. They will never replace you, but they can be there when you can’t.”

Aofil reaches up to grab the leaf in their hair. They spin it between their fingers.

“There won’t be a day where I’m not thinking about you, or miss the warmth I have to seek elsewhere for. Never ever believe that to not be the case.”

The leaf’s stem snaps, and its rapid spinning has it flailing in the air before landing between Aofil’s feet. They look down at it, seeing a drop fall down on it. They look up, but there’s not a cloud in sight.

“I’m still debating in my head if it was really you I talked to when I died, and when I fused with Asriel. I want to believe. I want to believe it so much, but since Chara didn’t remember what happened when I brought those times up, I’m not sure.”

Aofil looks over to Asriel and Frisk again.

“Guess he’s going through something similar, but living it instead. He’s a memory come to life, so what is he, really?”

Their head shakes tiredly.

“He’s whatever he wants himself to be. Doesn’t really matter, as long as we all say that he’s alive. Doesn’t matter if he has my soul in him. What he lacks in magic he makes up in strength. He’s Toriel and Asgore’s son. He’s Asriel, the prince of the monsters. If he walks like a monster, speaks like a monster, then what does it matter if his magic is weak?”

Aofil scoffs while letting their head fall down.

“Besides monsters being made out of magic...”

They snap it upright again.

“And then we have me, clinging to memories that are literally dead and buried. Quite the opposite poles we make, him and I. His memory came back to life, whilst mine stays dead. Guess that’s a plus for a monster to have, being able to come back from being just a flower.”

The wind blows through Aofil’s hair, clearing it of dandruff.

“Monsters become flowers, whereas human become trees.”

Aofil stands up and walks up to the aspen, putting their hand on the sturdy trunk. Listening.

But no one came.

Their hand slips down at their side, and they seat themselves under the dancing shadows of the leafs above between two thick roots sprouting from the ground.

“That thing about being normal kinda fell at the first hurdle with me talking to graves and trees, now didn’t it?”

Aofil quells a heavy sob. They feel it roll down every nook of their throat before planting itself uncomfortably in their lungs. They cough it out.

“That’s also something I realized when I came back.”

And another.

“It’s just been me talking to myself in an attempt to make sense of everything. It’s been me putting my problems elsewhere than myself. Trying to cope with being me, being confused, scared, alone…”

Aofil reaches up with their hand, only to have it fall down.

“Who else could I talk to? Who else would listen? Understand? The only family I had was dead, and only my family could even come close to understand.”

A small smile breaks through the dark sorrow resting heavily across Aofil’s face.

“But now that I have a family around me again. Now that I have friends that I know know about me, I’ve come to realize that...”

Aofil’s head swivels over to Asriel again.

“That your memory is as alive as I want it to be, just like how Asriel is as alive as he wants himself to be. I might’ve talked to myself, but who’s to say that you haven’t been listening? It’s been a cold splash of water against my face, but it’s been for good, I think.”

Their head turns back to the gravestones.

“I’m still gonna visit, because that’s what I’m gonna choose to believe what your memories are. Alive.”

Aofil pushes themselves upright. They cross their arms over their legs.

“If a sliver of my soul can survive all this time to be enough for Asriel to come back to life.”

A couple of knocks from Aofil on the trunk has a bird from a few branches up looking around very curiously.

“Then what’s not to say that you’re all watching over me right now in here?”

Aofil leans back again, closing their eyes as they put their clasped hands over their chest.

“I’ll bring flowers with me next time. I promise.”

A few seconds later, a leaf lands gently on their face.

Aofil blows it away.

“Seems your own memories are very much alive too.”


	17. Tending to the past

“Aofil?”

Hm? What?

Aofil’s eyes are viciously attacked by a blinding light that has them putting their arm up to try and shield their precious vision. The fur on their arm shines almost as bright as it reflects harshly, so they’re forced to switch arms. “What?” they ask sleepily after a yawn.

“You feeling alright?”

“Yeah?” Aofil saunters up into a sitting position with their arm still above their eyes. “What?”

“Did you fall asleep?”

“No?”

No, wait, looks like they did.

“Yes,” Aofil corrects. “Guess I did.”

Asriel and Frisk share a glance.

“Are you alright?” Frisk asks again.

“Yes, yes, I am,” Aofil answers while making an effort to stand up. They take support on the aspen trunk behind them. “Just fell asleep, that’s all. Been a lot to take in today.”

Asriel agrees to that with a solemn nod. “It has.”

“What did the Pastor say about your family, Frisk?” Aofil brushes their jeans and shirt off. “That why you stayed behind and talked with him?”

“Not really,” Asriel answers in Frisk’s stead. “I asked him why he called for me too. The things he brought up seemed to only be about you.”

“Chara?” Aofil hazards as a guess.

Asriel nods. “Chara. But seeing that you and Cter aren’t relatives.” He shrugs with his palms up. “Then his theory about the prophecy crumbled like the self esteem of Blookie’s snails.”

Blookie has snails? Snails with worse confidence?

Is that even possible?

“Anyways,” says Frisk through blowing their lips, “turns also out that he’d busied himself with Cter so much that he didn’t have time to do what mom and dad sent him down into the Underground for.”

Is Aofil supposed to apologize for that? Frisk seems a bit conflicted about it all, and Aofil’s not even asked if they want to know about their biological parents.

“Do you want to know about your biological parents, Frisk?”

Might as well ask while the opportunity is out in the open.

Literally.

Frisk drags a long and sorrowful sigh as an initial answer. “No, I don’t,” comes after a short pause as they pinch the bridge of their nose. They avert their eyes towards the church. “I asked him not to put any effort into my family tree. It can stay cut off at the stump for all I care.”

Aofil steals a glance from Asriel, who shrugs.

Guess he’s never heard the vicious snarl Frisk just did too.

“What if-”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Frisk realizes the sound of their voice after catching Asriel craning his neck back in stunned bafflement. They sigh irritably, mostly for themselves. “I’ve seen the impact that digging up the past has had. I’ve lived it myself. I’ve dug it up, and I’ve buried it, and I’ve dug it up again. If I can make the choice to keep at least something buried, then I’ll take it.”

“But what if-”

“No what ifs.” Frisk slashes the air in front of them horizontally with their hand. Had it been against the aspen it would’ve cut it in half. “If I find out that my parents put me away for adoption for reasons beyond their control, that me being stuck in that heinous building for the years of my life that are supposed to be looked back on and remembered fondly, is not because of reasons that are evil, but because of reasons that are tragic, then it’ll just...”

Frisk drags their hand over their face, sighing heavily into it. “I don’t know what I’ll do, and I don’t like that feeling. I don’t want to feel that mom and dad aren’t my mom and dad. I don’t want to put more on their shoulders, or mine.” Their hand moves to their chest, which they press against hard. “I’m Frisk Dreemurr, and that’s the only name I want to have. No human last name. I don’t even want to imagine having one. I’m Frisk Dreemurr. I’m no one else than that.”

The silence that follows is long and heavy, with the three trading looks and glances with each others underneath the wallowing movements of the aspen leafs.

“Besides,” Frisk says after feeling the weight of the silence hang a bit too heavily on them, “I’ve been on the news and in the paper more times than I can count, and no one has come and claimed that I’m their child. Not a single one.”

That’s fair, but…

“Maybe they believe you to have a life they could never give, and-”

Frisk rolls their head back with an angry grunt. “Stop! Just stop! I just said that I didn’t want to hear anything about it, Aofil! Maybe you want to have your entire family tree decorated like you’re about to put gifts underneath it, but I don’t! I’ve been generous and given my all to everyone else my entire life, just let me be egoistic just this once!”

Aofil is forced to take a step back while putting their palms up towards Frisk. “Alright, alright. Sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

Frisk breathes out. “Thanks, Aof. I really mean it. Sorry for yelling at you.”

“No problem, we’ve all had a rough couple of days, we’re all tired.”

Frisk looks past Aofil at the spot they found them sleeping. “That why you fell asleep?” The question almost sounds like an apology, and Asriel joins with it an anxious bite on his lip.

“No, that was because...” Aofil clears their throat. “Reasons.”

Reasons very obvious, but reasons they’d rather not say out loud. Asriel and Frisk can clearly tell though, as they both turn around towards the gravestones of Aofil’s family.

“Can I...”

Asriel turns his head back around to Aofil with his eyes looking down and his lips curling back as if preparing for a ‘no’. “Can I talk to them a bit?” Again the question sounds like a deep apology. “Ask them something?”

Aofil puts their hand forward as a friendly encouragement. “Go ahead.” Maybe it’ll be good for him. “I promised you before, didn’t I?”

“You told me to ask you later,” Asriel corrects. “I guess this is later though.”

“It is.” Aofil nods. “So go ahead, you have my blessing.”

Not really exactly what Aofil wanted to say, but it will have to suffice. They’re a bit curious about what Asriel wants to ask, that’s something they have to admit.

He kneels down in front of the gravestones with his hands calmly placed palms up on his thighs. He rolls his shoulders, all the while inhaling deeply. He raises his head skywards to breathe out.

Once his head returns to facing the tombstones, he opens his mouth slowly.

“Were you happy that Chara disappeared?”

What the fuck?

A bolt of rage shoots up Aofil’s spine, and their curious hand turns angry as it descends from calmly caressing their chin to clenching at their side.

What the absolute fuck!

But when they put their hand on the trunk behind them to push off, they feel a calming presence run up from it through their arm. Aofil turns towards the tree as a gingerly breeze ruffles the fur on their arm. The wind sweeps around them, taking with it their anger.

As the breeze passes Asriel, he winces. His teeth grit together painfully as if the breeze were made out of needles.

Might as well be, seeing that it brought with it Aofil’s anger.

Asriel breathes out the pain. “I can’t really put it any less hurtful,” he says with care to the gravestones in front of him. “When Chara was down in the Underground, what they spoke of you was horrible. That their parents were the reason of their hatred against humanity. How they also felt betrayed that their only friend, their own twin, refused to go along with their plan. The only one they could trust in their life...turning against them when it really mattered. They made me promise to be better than the humans, to be better than the family they came from. I...I was too scared when the time came to not break that promise.”

Aofil sinks down with the bark of the aspen scraping against the length of their back. They land ungracefully on the ground. Their arm finds rest on their bent knee, and their fist begin to clutch.

They don’t want to hear this…

“At the time I was in agreement with them. How could I not? They were my best friend, the hope of the Underground. They spoke of how the humans still were the monsters, metaphorically. When we...died...together...it reinforced what Chara said about the humans. How horrible they were. Why else would’ve the humans attacked us? Despite seeing a tall and scary monster walking sorrowfully with a small child in its arms only to attack the village unprovoked.”

Asriel’s scoff is painful.

For all that hear it.

“So in a way, what happened before Chara fell led directly to the seven humans being targeted and killed.”

“No!”

Not even the wind can persuade Aofil from flying up on their feet in a fit of unyielding rage.

“You’re not blaming my parents for the death of the kids!” Aofil swats away Frisk’s attempt to calm them down. “You’re not fucking doing that, Asriel!”

Asriel again grits his teeth.

“I wasn’t finished...” he apologizes meagerly, almost like a whimper. “But you’re right, Aofil.” His hands flip over, clutching hard against his thighs. “It’s just that...”

“He didn’t mean it that way,” interjects Frisk in another attempt. “You said yourself that...”

“What?” Aofil snaps their eyes viciously over to the human next to them. “What did I say?” they ask with a hateful growl that’s more gravely than the path leading throughout the graveyard.

Frisk only now realizes that they shouldn’t have said anything. “...That you didn’t know about your parents before Chara fell.”

That’s…

That’s not true!

It’s…

Aofil’s eyes shift over to the tree standing sturdy and tall next to them. They run their eyes up and down it.

It wasn’t out of maliciousness that their parents couldn’t love them and Chara! It was because of their curse-

Their curse…

It was because Chara and Aofil...their souls…

But...when Aofil was dying, their parents explained that it was…

Aofil is forced to take support against the trunk with their hand as their head starts spinning. Their knees buckle, and they lurch forward.

Their parents were good people. They weren’t evil against Chara! Or Aofil! They were good people in over their heads! It was tragic, not malicious!

But all Aofil has to prove that is what they just said was just in their head…

But…

Aofil’s hand balls into a fist again, but this one is put to use. They throw it against the aspen. The pain is quick and sharp up their shoulder, yet they throw it again.

And again.

And again.

Their fur will heal their hand.

So they throw it again.

“Who were you?” Aofil whispers to the tree as their knuckles slide down and they fall onto the tree poking between their neck and shoulder. They wrap their neck tightly around it. “Who were you against me and Chara?”

No answer.

Right…

Another corpse dug up.

“I was never a brother to Chara,” comes a pained lament from behind Aofil.

Brother?

Aofil turns their head around.

Their brother, and their sister!

Their parents would’ve never been able to adopt them if they weren’t good people, right?

The good people that Aofil remembers. The good people that they could never imagine driving away a child, let alone two.

Was it because Chara died that they changed? Was it because they lost a child that they realized?

Was the Pastor right in that Aofil’s lived with two different families? One with Chara, and one without?

No wonder Chara felt betrayed while Aofil was dying.

But! That! Was! Just! In! Their! Head!

Right?

Aofil meets Asriel’s eyes.

He lowers his head respectfully back down to the gravestones.

“Were you happy that Chara disappeared?” he asks again.

Aofil turns back to the aspen. “Were you?” they ask it.

“As Flowey, I shared Chara’s mindset,” Asriel continues despite Aofil still facing the aspen. “How could I not? They were the only one I still held dear even after countless resets. They were the one keeping me on a goal. To become the god they wanted me to be. To take revenge upon the humans. The first victims, Chara made me promise, was to be their parents. To show what Chara could’ve been if it weren’t for them.”

“What about your twin?” Asriel asks in a voice that is his own, but higher. As if he’s a small child again. “What do you want to do to them?”

No answer.

“They weren’t sure?” Aofil asks after managing to regain control over their trembling mouth. “About me?”

“When the time was right, Chara would tell me, but that time never came. The reason I could take control of our fused form was because they saw your still body, so I guess they’d made up their mind by then.”

“Yeah...” Aofil again slides down with their back against the aspen. They cross their arms over their knees. “Guess so.”

“During my stay up here on the Surface, I’ve had time to think about it. Properly think too, as it were. I distinctly remember feeling something genuine, something I rejected with all my will when I absorbed the human souls.” Asriel’s eyes move over to Frisk. “When Frisk...defeated me.”

“It wasn’t you!” Frisk says in a bare naked sob. “Az, we’ve talked about this. We’ve talked so much about this.”

“I know, Frisk. I don’t believe it, I promise, but when I think about Chara, and Flowey, it all eventually comes to me feeling that they were my actions. I know they’re not, but it’s what I feel. I’m not ever going to believe them to be mine though.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Frisk.”

They nod. “Alright.” Their stoicism is drained beyond the bottom though, and they clutch their fists at their sides so that they can still stand up straight. “I believe you.”

Asriel nods back. “Thanks.” He takes a calming breath. “As I was saying, when I lost, I felt doubt. Not doubt in general, but doubt in myself. Doubt in Chara. They were the only one keeping me going through the hellish existence I was put through, and I began to doubt them.”

His words are like poison from and on his tongue. With each sentence he winces, each syllable running through him like a knife’s wound., twisting with each gritted word he speaks. It pains him to say this, but he seems relieved at the same time. If Aofil were to be egotistic, they would say that it’s their soul’s doing. They’ve spent enough time with him to know that it’s far more than sharing a soul and a sibling that connects the two of them.

“But then, the pain started to seep into my memories. All of the fear, loneliness, anger, it started to seep through the mental barrier I had put up for Chara. The stains on the paragon that guided Flowey, those that he was so blind to since he couldn’t see them the way he was, those stains I began to realize when thinking back on it.”

“You’re my best friend, Chara,” Asriel again says with the voice he would’ve had back then. “You’ll always be.”

His mouth curls painfully.

“But even now I still feel that I’ve betrayed them by thinking that way. That I broke my promise to my best friend in the entire world.” Asriel looks up to Aofil again, his eyes now glimmering, overflowing with tears. “That’s why I have to ask your parents, Aofil. Because if they can get over Chara, then maybe I can too.”

The wind sways back and forth, taking with it Asriel’s ears, and the fringes of the humans, with it as it moves gently from side to side.

“For as much I want to say that you shouldn’t look to the dead for answers, I would be saying that as one that came back, to another that came back, from being dead.” Aofil sighs, they don’t have the foggiest what to say. “So just, ask again. See if they answer you.”

“They’ve answered you before, right Aofil?”

Aofil looks up the crown of the tree.

“I’ve answered myself.”

Asriel’s head sinks into his shoulders as he heaves a weary sigh. His palms move back to his thighs, and he relaxes his jaw for the first time in what seems like ages. “Were you happy that Chara disappeared?”

The wind calms down, almost to a standstill. The faintest breeze is still felt on the fur of both Asriel and Aofil.

The faintest whisper of an answer.

It doesn’t say anything though. Doesn’t give relief, doesn’t give anger. Not a ‘yes’ nor a ‘no’. It’s something though, and it takes just a something for the mind to make up itself.

Something for it to interpret.

Something for it to point at and say, “That’s not me.”

So...

“What did they say?” Aofil asks with their eyes closed.

“That if they can, then so can I.”

Aofil nods, “Funny,” and opens their eyes to meet Asriel smiling as he sits on his knees, “I didn’t hear anything.”

Asriel nods as well. “I know.”

“Me too.”

Only for him to hear.

The two stand up in unison. Aofil motions for the gate over yonder to Frisk, and takes lead with the two siblings behind them.

“There was also something about bringing flowers next time,” Asriel says as he catches up to Aofil.

They chuckle.

“That I also know of.”

The iron gate squeaks as it’s opened.


	18. Confidence isn't the key

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

“Asriel, just-”

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

“It’s not-”

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

“Could you please-”

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

A very bewildered Pastor leans out from behind the church doors. He’s hesitant at first, but finally decides to investigate.

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

Alright, that’s well enough. If he does it one more ti-

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNN-_

Aofil grabs a hold of Asriel’s shoulders and heaves him upright in his driver seat. They lean his head back on the head rest, with his horns peeking over the top of it like two handles just waiting to be dragged down. Frisk seems to have the strength not to play into that curiosity though, which is probably for the best.

“Why? Why do I keep doing this?”

Aofil pushes back on Asriel’s forehead as his head starts tipping forwards. From this height the airbag might deploy when he slams his head down again on the steering wheel.

“It was an accident, Asriel,” Aofil says in an attempt to have him stay upright by his own volition. They feel his head put more weight on their hand, so they push it back harder into the headrest.

“ **Uuurgh!** ”

A couple of gentle knocks are tapped on the passenger window behind Aofil’s turned shoulder.

It’s the Pastor.

“Is anything astray?” he asks after Aofil carefully shifts their free hand awkwardly behind them to lower the window. “There was a fair bit of honking. How is the Prince?”

“ **Uuurgh!** ” the Prince repeats.

“He’s fine,” Aofil answers. “Just a bit of tiredness that’s taken a hold of him.”

The Pastor’s eyes saunters quietly over from Aofil’s eyes to Asriel mouth gaping wide in a low but loud groan.

Aofil steals back the Pastor’s eyes by leaning in just below breakneck speed. They’d rather it stay as it is, unbroken. “A lot to take in today,” Aofil tries again, still with one hand on Asriel’s forehead, and with the other motioning unconvincingly towards the pastor. Their shoulders are protesting loudly, but if they drop one side the other will fly off the handle.

Or down into the steering wheel, more like.

“I see.” The Pastor retreats his head from the car and back out into the open air. He bows it carefully. “Then I should leave you to it. Give my regards to the Queen and King, if I may.”

“We will,” Aofil smiles back through teeth clenched against their protesting shoulders. “We’ll put in a word about Dogoressa too.”

“That would be much appreciated.”

From the way the Pastor just lit up by that it would be more appreciated than he could ever vocalize. He turns on his heel and makes his way back to his church. Judging by the light steps he takes he must be daydreaming about meeting Dogoressa again.

Aofil closes the window again.

How peaceful the Pastor looks as he walks. You can barely tell the movement of his legs through his frock. It’s like he’s floating.

“And mom is gonna kill me!”

In stark contrast to the Prince next to Aofil.

“Toriel’s not gonna do anything, Asriel,” Aofil interrupts while turning their strained shoulder back to Asriel. “She didn’t do anything before, and she won’t do anything this time.”

“Before?” comes an inquisitive voice from the backseat. Frisk leans in between the driver and passenger seat in such a way that Aofil has to turn their arm in an even more awkward angle.

Wait a second…

“Before?” Aofil repeats. Asriel didn’t tell Frisk about before? Don’t they share everything with each other?

Well, no, Aofil knows that, but something as minor as Asriel breaking the car key in the ignition isn’t deserving of secrecy?

“You told me you arrived late because of the snails,” Frisk accuses with their eyes hard on Asriel. “That the car broke down because of an ignition problem, and that then you decided to get some snails because of it?”

“Technically Asriel wasn’t lying,” Aofil answers in the groaning Prince’s stead. To that Frisk leans back with their brow furrowed and their mouth puckered in thought.

Asriel holds up the upper half of Toriel’s car key above his muzzle. He sighs through his lips before throwing the key atop the dashboard. As his bemoaned hand hangs in the air, something shifts in his expression. Like the impact of the key sent ripples that shook his world. He stares at his hand while turning it, balling it into a fist, and releasing it.

An even stranger occurrence shows its face, on Asriel’s face.

A smile.

“You can take off your hand now, Aofil.”

Can they?

“Yes, you can,” Asriel answers Aofil’s extended eyebrow with a hard stare.

They hold it.

And so does he.

They hold it.

And so does he.

They hold it.

And so-

“Just remove your hand, Aof!” Frisk finally says after a long and tortured sigh.

Aofil lifts their hand slowly, hovering it for a couple of seconds before retreating it fully.

Asriel leans forward and-

“Oow!”

The smack against Asriel’s forehead is very much audible.

“You almost his my eyes, Aof!” he snarls back while pushing Aofil’s arm away from him.

“You leaned forward!” Aofil defends.

“To get the keys!” Asriel counters back while jiggling the key chain around his claw. “Jeez.”

The three inhabitants of the car draw a collective sigh.

“Let’s get out of this,” offers Aofil. “Air is getting thin.”

The continuous seat belt warning ding has Asriel shaking his head tiredly. It’s audible even when the three close their respective doors. A testament to Asriel’s failure, ever reminding.

Until the battery runs out, that is.

He doesn’t seem awfully fazed by it though.

Aofil is beginning to wonder. Just something in the air between them and Asriel just doesn’t add up. They look over their shoulder at Frisk, and the same thing is with them as well. It’s been that way ever since they left the graveyard. Like miasma it’s been looming over the three, influencing them in ways no mortal could ever describe. Should Aofil grab the bull, or in this case, the goat, by the horns? Force an answer out of him? Maybe the fallen child too? Drastic measures is something Aofil would like to avoid, but they’re willing to do that if it means saving their own life.

Aofil is beginning to wonder...

“What time is it?” they wonder out loud while fishing out their phone from their pocket. Their eyes widen in surprise for a second before adjusting to the late hour displayed on their phone. “Hm.” They pocket their phone again. “Just about dinner in an hour.”

How long were they sleeping under the aspen? No wonder the air felt colder between them, Frisk, and Asriel. It’s way later than they thought it would be. They must’ve dozed off for a good while.

Hopefully not long enough for them to not be able to sleep for the night when they get home.

And speaking of getting home.

“Toriel or the towing firm, Asriel?”

“I only have to call one?”

“No, which one are you gonna call first?”

He sighs, “Mom, I guess,” and his hand quickly finds his phone in his front pants pocket. Almost like it’s first nature for him. Doesn’t really come as a surprise to Aofil. Their eye is sharp as a razor when it comes to detecting teenagers shifting their weight to reach for their phones.

And they take pride in that!

In class the focus should be on the class, and not sending pictures with, what can only be described as, or to be more truthful, what the teenagers only can describe as, ironically abstract art and slogans.

Not even a generation has passed on the Surface for the monsters and the future is already ruined.

Aofil heaves a lamenting sigh while shaking their head.

“Mom?”

Now let’s see how ironic abstraction can help Asriel talk his way out of breaking the car key again.

“Yeah, we’re fine. No, not really. The Pastor made a mistake in his research. It was...” Asriel glances over to Aofil for help.

They motion for him to put his hand over the microphone. “Mistaken human handwriting,” they offer as an excuse.

To that, Asriel’s hesitant, but he can’t really figure out a better excuse. “Some kind of mistaken human handwriting,” he relays. “I don’t know, ask Aofil when we get back.”

Aofil’s brow sink down.

Really?

Actually, that might be for the best, now that Aofil thinks about it. It gives them more time to, not really bend the truth, but present it in a more favorably way.

Oh boy…

If Aofil’s painting that kinda picture in their mind they’re gonna have to come up with the greatest lie ever made.

“Frisk?”

Asriel looks down to Frisk who slams their mouth shut with their hands.

This is gonna be entertaining.

“No, I haven’t seen Frisk. I think they’re at...”

Asriel motions wildly with his hand for Frisk to come up with an excuse. Frisk does so in return, and the exchange is forcing Aofil to put their hand over their own mouth to contain their chuckle.

“Moldessa,” Frisk finally mouths.

“Not home yet,” Asriel relays.

A second hand is needed to cover Aofil’s ever growing grin. Hopefully it’s enough. They don’t have any more hands to use themselves after this.

With a halfway angry tug at Asriel’s ear, Frisk forces their brother to lean down to them. “Moldessa,” they whisper harshly in the ear opposite his phone. Luckily, the harsh tone doesn’t go through Asriel’s skull and into the phone. Although, it’s their mother on in, so it’s a distinct possibility that she heard it regardless. Add to that that it is Toriel as well and you could probably just think of the word and she would hear it.

The phone stays inside Asriel’s ear though and not a very startled arm’s length away from it, so Aofil’s gonna assume that Toriel didn’t hear her children lie to her.

“They’re at Moldessa’s house,” Asriel continues while massaging Frisk’s tug away from the tip of his ear. “Yeah, it’s-”

His entire body freezes, as if a spell’s been cast on him. His fearful eyes contract until barely visible, and his jaw stars quivering. Spell cast must’ve been a curse. If it was a curse curse or a swear curse is hard to tell. Aofil’s never heard Toriel swear with their own ears, but others have sworn that she’s sworn before.

Is that another wave of jealousy running up Aofil’s spine again?

“S-s-semester ev-valuation? W-with M-Moldessa?”

Nope! It was a chill.

“Uh oh,” Frisk mouths quietly.

Aofil’s conflicted whether or not to motion for Asriel to hand over his phone. They could probably formulate up a better lie...no...excuse, than him, but they way he’s clutching it right now they would need a couple of crowbars to be able to bend it out of his hand.

“That would explain why Frisk called me earlier.”

What? Where did that come from? Aofil looks at Asriel leaning on Toriel’s roof on his flat arm with a raised pair of confused eyebrows. His voice… It’s like all the anxiousness just up and vanished from him. He’s leaning against the car like he’s just sold it for thrice market value over the phone.

What the hell?

“Nah, you’ll have to call them after your meeting. That’s probably for the best.”

Frisk looks stunned at this development too. If Toriel were to call right now they wouldn’t hear their phone ringing.

“The reason I called though, mom, is that I may or may not have accidentally snapped the key again.” Asriel’s voice is calm and collected while relaying something he almost broke down while doing last time. He even chuckles as he finishes! Genuine chuckle! Not a worried one! “Well, dad’s car has you turning it towards you, and with yours you turn away, and I was talking to Aofil about our visit in the meantime, and my mind slipped.”

He shrugs as nonchalant as Mettaton would if you pointed out something malicious in one of his contracts. This is all kinds of strange, both very and somewhat, and the entire spectrum in between.

“Yeah, mom. I’m sorry.” Asriel’ eyes move over to Aofil. “Still not used to my strength and all.” He averts his eyes quickly afterwards. “Might have to ask Undyne to calm down a bit, ey?” He chuckles. “Nah, don’t ask her, mom. I was just kidding.”

If Aofil wouldn’t have been as aware as they are about Asriel’s past, they would probably say that he’s finally starting to bloom.

But that kind of flowery talk would have him bulb up like a tulip in winter.

“So, yeah, we might not make it home to dinner. Maybe you and dad can saunter your way over to Mettaton’s? It’s been a while since you two took some time for yourselves.”

“ _Oh?_ ”

Frisk and Aofil’s eyes shoot towards the phone as if it’s the gravitational center of the Universe. Both them could hear Toriel’s voice loud and clear, and both believe to have reacted mildly to the smooth and intrigued reaction coming out of Asriel’s phone. Not even the shoddy audio that telephone signals are broadcast through is enough to damper the almost lustfully inquisitive tone from Toriel.

Aofil can only imagine Moldessa and her parents’ reaction sitting next to Toriel during this conversation she’s having with Asriel.

Jealousy sweeps over them like a monsoon. What they wouldn’t give to hear, and see, Toriel with her hair let down so that it would reach the basement of the Underground in person.

“Frisk?” Asriel asks again while looking down at their sibling. “Call them and ask. Or should I do it? In any case, I think they’d approve of you and dad enjoying yourself for a while. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

Aofil’s not sure what Asriel means by that, exactly, but they should probably not ask in case their suspicions are true. That’s...a bit out of their range.

And that is saying quite a lot.

“Yes, I have keys home, and yes, Frisk has theirs too, before you ask. We’ve had them for years now, mom, why would we not have them now?”

Maybe so that Asriel and Frisk would have to knock before entering when coming home? Asgore and Toriel would’ve been warned in case they were-

No!

NO!

OUT!

OUT OF AOFIL’S HEAD!

STOP!

OTHER THOUGHTS COME CLAIM AOFIL’S MIND AND FREE THEM!

STOP!

Asriel looks a bit perplexed over Aofil shaking their head so violently while their hands push against both sides of their lobe. “Yeah...” he answers after a short while into his phone. “I’ll give Frisk a call and tell them the situation.” His brow furrows. “What? Aofil?” His mouth tightens for a split second before opening wide in relief. “Oh yeah! Yes, I’ll see if I can find it at home. If not, I’ll send them over to Undyne or Papyrus, whoever has it currently. Yes, yes. Of course I’ll be fine. No, you don’t have-” Asriel’s forced to concede with a deep sigh. “Shouldn’t you save that for your own dinner?” His sigh deepens even further. “Alright, but then I’ll see if I can get some snails as well.” His eyes roll like they’re on the highest speed in a centrifuge. “Because I’ve been telling you that I want to try and be independent with my money, that’s why, mom.” His eyes land gently downwards at the ground, and he blinks slowly. “Love you too, mom. See you later.”

Asriel hangs up his phone, spins it irresponsibly in his hand, and pockets it again. He shrugs at the two humans staring at him dumbfounded.

“What?”

“What?” Aofil repeats while throwing out their arms, almost knocking Frisk over. “What do you mean by what?”

Asriel shrugs again.

Aofil looks over to Frisk for support. “I’m not imagining things here, right?”

Beside Asgore and Toriel together in-

**NO!**

Frisk answers with a nod. “Did he have the same confidence last time?” they ask back to Aofil.

“I’m right here,” Asriel informs to deaf human ears.

“I had to take the phone from him,” Aofil explains while extending their thumb and pinky finger next to their head. “He was very nervous.”

“Still right here,” Asriel informs to even deafer human ears.

“That usually the case when he screws up and has to call mom or dad,” Frisk adds while putting the flat of their palm up to their cheek and ear.

Aofil shakes their head.

Ruined generation.

“Alright!” Asriel finally gets through to the humans, who bend their heads with their imaginary phones up to their ears. They both hang them up. “Why is me being able to handle a conversation such a deviance for me? I’ve done that before.”

Aofil and Frisk glance at each other before moving their eyes back to Asriel.

To that, he rolls his eyes again. “Come on now… Are you two being serious right now?”

“Call the towing company,” Aofil asks after a couple of silent beats.

If he’s gotten better when talking to Toriel, that’s a fluke. If he’s also gotten better at talking to the towing company, then that’s gonna be convincing proof.

“Tell them that you’re Prince Asriel too,” Aofil adds.

“Or I could just ask for them to come over here without the need for me to play the royal card,” Asriel retorts as he dials the number on his phone. He puts his finger up to his lips to shush Aofil before they can say anything else.

“Hello,” Asriel greets as his phone connects, “I’m having troubles with my car at the church and need it towed to Monster City. I have with me two friends that I need to bring with me as well. When’s the earliest you can send a truck?”

Asriel leans back on the car with his free arm tucked across his chest. He nods a few times as he listens to the operator on the other line. Aofil almost has to butt in and remind Asriel that he’s on the phone and that the person on the other side can’t see him nod, but just before the thought strike them, Asriel smacks his lips. “Yes, I understand. Could you call me back on this number if something shows up?”

Asriel’s cheeks drag into a wide smile. “Great, looking forward to hearing back from you.”

He hangs up.

“Yes?” Frisk pries.

“There aren’t any tows available at this hour. There’s some kind of event.”

“Event?”

“Yes, and the company’s fully booked right now. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

“If you would’ve said your name we’d have one in less than an instant.” Aofil slaps the roof of Toriel’s car. “Been home in an hour or so.”

Asriel shrugs his shoulder to Aofil’s motion. “I could’ve, but that would be flaunting my title, I feel. Don’t want to do that just yet. I’m not better than the others, I’ll wait for the tow if I have to.”

Aofil doesn’t believe it. It could be that Asriel’s making sure that he and Frisk don’t arrive while Asgore and Toriel are-

_**STOP!** _

Well, they believe that Asriel’s honest about being modest, but he’s not honest about it being the case. The air is thick with the reason that stinks the most like the truth. Not literally, of course.

If it were Aofil would be feeling their stomach turn.

“You want the snails again,” Aofil accuses while crossing their arms as one of their eyebrows fly up their forehead.

“Great!” Asriel answers while motioning for the sidewalk. “Then let us head over and get some.”

Where did this sudden confidence come from? Granted, Aofil’s not against it, nor would anyone be, but it just popping out like this is cause for suspicion.

“I’ll tell you over the snails,” Asriel says to Aofil after seeing their eyebrow lower in deep thought. “I have to test something before I’m certain.”

Aofil looks to Frisk for their opinion, but Frisk just shrugs.

Alright then.

“Let’s swing by my place first,” Aofil proposes.

“Your old place, I’m guessing?” Frisk asks as they catch up to Asriel.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Asriel pries curiously while standing at the exit from the church grounds with his arms crossed.

“I wanna see how big a hole my house left behind.”


	19. Shedding nostalgia

“Huh...”

“Yup.”

“That’s a hole.”

“Sure is.”

“No one’s bought the property yet?”

“Would cost a lot to remake the foundation.”

“Couple of knee marks dotted around the front lawn as well from when the house got up.”

“That’ll buff out with a couple of bags of soil.”

“It’s deeper than I thought.”

“I always thought the stairs down to the basement were long, but still, it’s a surprise to me too. You would need a ladder and a half to reach the bottom here.”

Aofil crosses their arms. It’s a very...interesting...view, seeing their old place be nothing but grass and a square hole in the ground, with bent pipes and frayed wires sticking out from way below. It’s a right mess, that’s for certain.

They swivel their head up and down the street. Seems pretty empty at this time of day, so nothing’s really changed in that remark. No one will notice if they enter, right?

“Who owns the property, by the way?” they ask Asriel and Frisk. “Who did I actually sell it too? When I...left, I handed it all to the real estate agent. Took a sizable cut out of the final price, but at least I didn’t have to think about it at the time. So I didn’t really catch the name of who it was that signed the contract.”

“According to the official papers, a human,” Frisk answers. “But it was really mom and dad that bought it. Alphys offered to make some robots to keep the place clean for if you returned.”

Guess that explains why it’s so integrated in Aofil’s house.

“Nothing to do with it being where Chara lived before they fell?” Aofil pries as they enter through the gate. They have to lean most of their weight on the iron handle before it realizes that Aofil wants it to open up. A metallic yawn emerges from the hinges as they swing it open.

“We didn’t really want to ask at the time,” Asriel explains while stepping through the gate that Aofil’s holds for him and Frisk. “And afterwards, well, we just didn’t think what good could come out of us asking.”

“I understand that.” Aofil closes the gate behind Frisk. “You had to make terms with being alive again and all that.”

“Still working on that,” Frisk adds.

Aofil gets it confirmed by Asriel’s nod. 

The trio walk to the hole.

“If we were one more we could surround it,” Asriel points out with a chuckle. He stretches out his hand over the gap. “Nope, no Barrier,” he relays as he swipes his forehead.

Aofil makes their way to the other side of the hole with their head cocked at Asriel. “And here I thought I was the one with lighter shoulders after talking to my parents.” They catch themselves lifting their foot up where their patio used to be, and they almost trip themselves as they misjudge the distance back down to the ground. 

Frisk agrees with Aofil’s statement. They tap Asriel on his shoulder as he passes them by to also round the square. “Don’t get me wrong, Az, I’m glad to hear you be this loose around Aofil and the likes.”

Aofil and the likes? Mostly it’s the likes that caught Aofil’s ears, but...

They lift their head from inspecting the large outlet pipe with a curtain of vegetation over it. What does Frisk mean by the likes, exactly? There are more twins to Chara? Oh… That means… Oh god no…

Aofil has missed so many birthdays…

“You even made a joke about the Barrier, Az,” Frisk continues while throwing their open hand up towards the looming presence of Mt. Ebott. “Didn’t think you’d ever do it. Especially not within viewing distance of where it was!”

Aofil tilts their head up towards the mountain. Despite them running their eyes up where their old path went, they still can’t classify the entrance to the Underground as visible. The outlook, or whatever it’s officially called, is at such a weird angle that you can’t really see it this close to Ebott. 

Asriel shrugs his shoulders. “Fused with Aofil in their basement, so-”

Hey now!

“Exactly!” Frisk interrupts. “If anything you’d be refusing to even set foot close here! What happened with you back there at the graveyard?”

Aofil would also like to sate their curiosity on that subject. They have some suspicions, but for as much as he seems happy on the outside, bringing it up might vacuum that smile right off his face.

God knows Aofil’s has experience with that.

They glance down at the fur on their arm.

Years worth.

“Sweet!”

Asriel rushes past Aofil in such a way that they’re forced to glance right back up again. What has him in such a sprint all of a sudden?

Asriel hurries himself down to the corner of Aofil’s former yard. They follow him with their eyes, and can’t help but light up as well at the sight.

They had forgotten all about that!

The apple tree is in full bloom, causing a wave of warm nostalgia to wash over Aofil. Heck, some of its fruits actually look edible. Especially the one Asriel’s climbing up to get. Might even been as sweet as he exclaimed just now. Very neat. What a very much needed pleasant surprise.

Asriel’s excitement shakes the tree quite violently, and plenty of apples rain down from it, landing on the grass with muffled thuds. They quickly number very many. Would be a shame to just let them sit and rot away.

Maybe Aofil should collect and bring them back to Papyrus. Maybe he’s improved his apple sauce since last time. Can’t hurt to try. They’ll gauge Sans’ reaction to Papyrus’ offer for Aofil to stay for pasta dinner. If his eyes disappears, they’ll thank Papyrus for the offer, but decline. If he makes excuses for Aofil to leave, they’ll gladly accept the offer. 

Perfect! They got a plan.

Now, there should be a basket in the shed somewhere. There was some when Aofil left all those years ago…they think… Eh, they should be able to figure something out with the stuff present inside.

“You want an apple as well?” Asriel’s head asks Frisk as it pokes out of the tree crown. “Aofil?”

“I could go for one,” Aofil answers as they near the shed. Wait… Is that a lock hanging on the handle? Looks heavy duty.

“Right!” Asriel’s head disappears back into the tree. A couple of branches land on the ground shortly after, cracking in the middle as they do.

Frisk stands with their arms extended in baffled confusion. “Az!” they shout in half a cough.

“What?” Asriel asks from within the tree. 

“Just...” Frisk’s shoulders heave heavily as they peter out the word through a tired raspberry. “Whatever. I’ll cross that bridge once you decide to tell us what’s going on with you.” They walk over to the tree and hold their hand out. A few moments later an apple lands in it. “Whenever you decide to tell.”

Leaves and more apples drum at the ground as Asriel descends the tree.

“Don’t land on any apples,” Aofil shouts from their hunched over position at the shed. Yes, it sure is a lock. Question is if there’s anything nearby to pick it open with.

The entire trunk of the tree swivels as Asriel pushes away from it with his feet. He clears the ring of apples strewn about under the tree, and lands with a roll next to Frisk. They offer him their free hand to help him up. 

“Apple?” Asriel offers through a mouthful of apple to Aofil scouring the outside walls of the weathered shed with a stick in their search of some tools. “Gotta warn you though, they ain’t as sweet as I thought they would be.”

“They’ve never been,” Aofil informs as they rub their handed apple across the fur on their arm. From behind them they hear eyebrows raise, but they pay it no mind. They could’ve sworn that there was some… Aha! A screwdriver!

Flat one to boot! Small one for the other boot!

Perfect.

“Han mge tjat rjuck.”

Asriel’s brow sinks like an anchor tossed into an empty ocean. “What?”

Aofil removes their apple from their mouth. “Hand me that rock.”

“Oh.” Asriel squats down and bends loose the one between his feet. “This?”

“Yes.”

Now...um...how should Aofil hold their three items in just two of their hands. They need both free for them to work the lock.

Eh. Screw it.

“I’m gonchla pig the log,” they explain through the small opening at the side of their mouth from where they first took a bite out of their apple. “Well, morg lig smathin it opfen, but itch lig pigging it.”

Frisk and Asriel nod, but they clearly don’t understand.

Aofil drags a slobful breath through the side of their mouth. “Jus gonna but de schrewdrive in and-Shit!”

The half eaten apple falls down on the ground with a soft bounce on the bitten side as Aofil recoils from the shock sent through their arm from the lock.

“Tampering detected,” it speaks with an ominous voice.

Aofil shakes the pain out of their arm. “Oh...”

“Maybe tell it who you are?” Asriel proposes with a slight shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“That it denies and calls the cops?” Aofil retorts over their shoulder.

“You want me to kick the door in?” Asriel proposes again.

Yes.

“No,” Aofil’s forced to say despite their entire being screaming differently. “Let’s try asking it first. Don’t think the shed will stand up if you go about kicking it.”

Before Aofil can say their name to the lock though, they catch themselves.

Not about talking to a lock.

Not about it being unusual.

They catch themselves not catching themselves about this situation.

Guess it’s completely normal to them now.

Aofil’s not sure how they feel about that.

Besides nothing out of the ordinary, that is.

“I’m Aofil, I lived here before,” Aofil explains, totally normally and without any feelings of it being out of place for them to do so, to the lock. “Could you-”

“In season one, episode fifteen of Mew Mew, what is the name of the animal accompanying Mew Mew during her travels?” the lock asks in a tone that’s way too stern for this situation.

Aofil cocks their head around to the kids behind them. They both shake their heads. 

“You’re lying,” Aofil says with their brow lowered.

“Reminded me too much about the Underground,” Asriel explains. “Haven’t gotten around to watching it yet.”

“I want to watch it with Asriel,” Frisk adds as Aofil’s peering eyes move over to them.

Is that so?

Aofil swivels their head back to the lock. Is this worth seeing Papyrus lighting up like a nuclear explosion when he sees Aofil bringing him a basket full of home...previously home grown apples?

Yes, it is.

Dammit.

“Could you cover your ears for me for a moment?” Aofil asks from Asriel and Frisk while demonstrating by putting the flat of their palms up to their own ears.

Asriel mouth moves, but Aofil doesn’t hear him say anything.

Oh…

Right.

Aofil removes their hands from their ears.

“Why?” he repeats.

“Override password Alphys gave to me for my house. Might work here too.”

That’s a complete lie, but if Aofil can spare some embarrassment over having to admit to having watched Mew Mew, then that’s worth a small white lie.

Seems to have convinced them. Frisk saunters their hands up their cheeks, while Asriel nestles his hands under his ears. Looks quite comfortable.

“Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala.”

“Asrie-”

“Lalalalalalalalala.”

Right, he can’t hear…

Aofil waves frantically in front of Asriel’s face. With a perplexed look he lifts up his floppy ears.

“Yes?” he asks while holding his ears up like a pair of droopy wings.

“It’s voice activated,” Aofil reminds while pointing to the lock.

Asriel’s brow sinks for a split second before shooting up. “Oh!” He nods. “Gotcha, sorry. We’ll back up instead.”

His ears sure move like wings as he walks with them lifted up like that.

“Here’s good?” Asriel asks with half a yell close to the apple tree.

Aofil extends their thumb. “Should be fine.”

Asriel’s ears flop down again.

Aofil leans close to the lock. Their entire body is burning up in embarrassment, but it’s something they have to live with now.

“Mikkarama,” they answer the lock. “The animal accompanying Mew Mew during episode fifteen of season one was a Mikkarama.”

The lock whirs for a second before a loud mechanical noise has the hoop opening up.

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERD!” the lock shouts with Undyne’s voice.

Aofil’s head lowers in defeat and full shame.

God dammit.

“Find anything?” Asriel asks as he returns alongside Frisk to the worn and weathered shed. He leans himself on the wall on his elbow, but immediately removes it as he feels the entire building shift just from him leaning up against it.

“What did you do?” Aofil asks over their shoulder in startled panic.

“I didn’t know it would budge just by me putting my arm up to it,” Asriel defends while keeping his hands at the ready should the shed move again.

Aofil should probably find a basket at their earliest convenience.

That being right now.

The one next to them that looks like it’s over a century old will have to suffice. 

“It’s not gonna just crumble in on itself,” Frisk informs to a hurrying Aofil as they almost throw themselves out the door with the frayed basket clutched between their widened hands.

“You go inside and have Asriel push the shed and then tell me the same afterwards,” Aofil shoots back with irritation summoned through fear. They shake it off as their hear their own voice. “Could you re mount the lock, please?”

Asriel, very, carefully closes the shed door. It stays upright. He drags a relieved sigh.

And the shed starts tipping.

“You serious?” Aofil asks from a safe distance. Id est, far enough not to be able to hurry over in time.

Asriel desperately tugs at the knots of the shed, pulling with might yet with care to have it steady itself again. It looks to be a bit fruitless, and the shed angles itself more and more despite his best efforts.

Frisk takes a step back as they see the planks starting to uproot themselves from the ground. “Asriel...” 

“I can hold this.”

“It’s starting to pivot around where you’re grabbing it!” Aofil shouts as the rotation starts to build up some speed. “Let go of it!”

Asriel tilts their head around.

“Now!” Aofil commands before he has time to repeat that he can hold it. He can’t, not any longer.

Asriel lets go of the shed. He jumps back, and the roof comes slamming down where he stood just a second after. The entire shed bounces hard, sending out loud creaks as the planks bend in on themselves and the tin roof.

“Huff and puff until it all blows down,” Aofil says through their grin in a whisper. The legends do come true.

“What was that one story about blowing down houses?” Asriel asks over his shoulder.

“No idea,” Aofil lies. “Now come help me pick up these apples.”

“Should I still re mount the lock?”

Aofil perplexed head swivels around with brow lowered to the point where their eyes resemble Frisk’s. 

Is he serious? Is he just trying to skip out on picking the apples?

“Sure.” Aofil says over their shrugging shoulders. “Put it back if you want to.”

Two steps later Aofil hears Asriel call out for them. “The lock is asking for a new security question, Aofil. I think we should use the same one Alphys put in.”

Why?

Aofil’s now turned their entire body around. “Why?”

“So that-” Asriel’s upraised finger lowers as the obvious reason that his question is moot to the point of aloof hits him like a runaway train.

“So that Alphys or anybody else would realize that we were here?” Aofil finishes, mostly because they can’t stop laughing about it.

Asriel’s ears flop down like two big capsules of snot on both sides of his cheeks. He gets no sympathy from Frisk, who just shakes their head. “...Yes,” he admits while standing in front of the collapsed shed with its planks sticking out like beacons of meddling, and the roof being folded into itself as if made out of wet paper.

“Let’s just get these apples,” Aofil offers while bouncing the basket in their hands. As they turn back around to face the tree though, their face finally convulses into a baffled grin.

At least his heart was at the right place.

Aofil manages a couple of handfuls of apples before Asriel and Frisk arrives while rolling up their sleeves over their elbows.

“You thinking of carrying this back to the car first?” Asriel asks after his third deposit into the basket. He picks up an apple that looks quite bruised and insect eaten which he dangles for Aofil to see.

Aofil motions for him to throw it away, which he does quite an impressive distance. “Yeah,” Aofil answers after concluding that the apple landed too far away for them to hear the thud. “I’ll put it in the trunk of the car and then we can go get some dinner.”

“Same place as before?” Asriel asks with no effort to hide his excitement.

“With the snails?”

Frisk freezes at the word ‘snails’. The apple in their hand is crushed, and their mouth struggles to find words.

“There are other places nearby if you don’t want snails, Frisk,” Aofil reassures.

Their sigh of relief almost blows the rest of the apples on the ground away.

“I thought you liked snails though, Frisk?” Aofil might as well ask now that they can. “You’ve been brought up with them, after all?”

“I...” Frisk bounces an apple in their hand impatiently as their face drags into a myriad of emotions. “I’m impartial to them, let’s go with that. They’re fine as dessert when drizzled with syrup and whipped cream, but that’s my limit.”

Oh boy… That turned Aofil’s stomach something fierce. The snail...juices...mixed with sweet syrup, and whipped-

They barely manage to quell their heave.

Oh god…

This is what they get for asking.

“Does Toriel know?” Aofil asks through their fist pushed up against their mouth.

“She does,” Frisk answers as they deposit their third carry of apples. “She’s my mom, of course she knows.”

Not really considering everything that’s happened, but fair enough. If Aofil can cash out without having to find out that the deck they’re playing with is actually their maybe-maybe-not distant relative Cter’s magical deck passed down so that one of her future offspring can take up the mantle she left behind.

Or something.

Point is, Aofil should leave things where they are if they can.

“What if you really are a relative to Cter, Aofil?”

What? How strong is Aofil and Asriel connection really? Can he read Aofil’s thoughts or something?

“I mean...” Asriel drags a long inhale through his clenched teeth. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? You can’t do any magic yourself, Aofil, so what does it really do to you that you now know that you have a mage ancestor?”

Should she really be called an ancestor? Granted, yes, it’s been a while since she lived, but not ancestor long time ago. Grand relative, perhaps.

“There’s no proof or anything for her to have been my relative,” Aofil retorts while twirling their wrist. “You suddenly forgot everything that happened under the church?”

Asriel throws the flat of his hands up. “Mistake bringing it up again, I guess.”

“No,” Aofil stands up from their squatted position with apples in their armful. “Just wondering why you’d bring it up again this close in time. You think that if I accept that I have a mage ancestor you’ll be able to do better magic?”

Asriel averts his eyes while scratching the side of his furry cheek. “Was worth a try.”

“That I can give you.”

The basket is soon filled, and Aofil struggles a bit to lift it. Asriel offers to help, and Aofil allows him. It doesn’t seem to bother him one bit, which leaves Aofil with a mixed response.

He’s impressively strong.

Or is Aofil impressively weak?

Either way, better that he carries it.

Aofil hurries along before Asriel to open the gate so that Asriel doesn’t have to do a balancing act with the heavy basket in only one hand.

They motion for him to take lead through the gate. “After you.”

He nods as he passes.

But Frisk stops.

They look up at Aofil, but then averts their eyes.

Do they want to say something, or?

Frisk sighs. “Better that I say it now than you finding out later.”

Okay?

They point to Asriel. “We both know you knew the answer to the lock.”

Aofil’s eyes shoot wide open.

“So, yeah.”

Frisk jogs up next to their brother, leaving Aofil with the gate in their clutching hand.

Their mouth opens, and a single word spills out of it like a drop of water out of a faucet closed shut at midnight.

“Dammit.”


	20. Are we there yet?

“Right!”

Asriel dusts off his palms against each other as he closes the trunk of Toriel’s car. The door just barely misses the overflowing basket of apples as it closes with a careful slam.

He picks up his phone that started ringing just as he was about to slot in the basket. “Hello?”

Why he didn’t answer with his name is up to Aofil to ponder.

“Two hours?”

There’s a silent beat as Asriel listens for the response.

“Alright. Thank you.”

He hangs up.

“Two hours,” he relays to Frisk and Aofil.

“Until a tow is available?” Aofil adds while pointing to the car.

Asriel nods. “Yes, because we’re three that needs to come along with it. They only have a few couple of trucks that have backseats.”

“And those are all busy at that event?”

Asriel pockets his phone while at the same time throwing up his other hand in the air. “I didn’t ask, okay? If they say that they don’t have one available, then they don’t have one available. We’re gonna get towed to Monster City, so they’re not gonna deny the job because it’s not lucrative enough. Quite the opposite, really. It’s a tow over to another town entirely.”

Aofil’s forced to concede. “Yes, yes, you don’t have to defend them in court about this.” They motion for the sidewalk. “Let’s head for some dinner. I’m starting to feel a bit peckish.”

“Too bad we don’t have Sans to shortcut us,” Frisk says before throwing a look over their shoulder.

“Can he hear you all the way from here?” Aofil asks with a perplexed eyebrow extended. “You can get hold of him faster than speed dial?”

“No,” Frisk swivels their head back again as they conclude that the smiling skeleton is not present nearby at the current moment. “He just seems to show up when you talk about him like this, that’s all. He’s been doing it less and less as the years passed by though. Guess he’s settling in to not having to be on edge and knowing everything as to be able to piece together why he wakes up with memories of events that will, and not, happen.”

“Settling into his sofa, that is,” Aofil adds.

“heh.”

The two humans’ necks turn like owls, straining like towels wringed until the last drop of liquid’s been expelled.

“Heh.”

Wait…

Aofil almost has to turn their head with their hands as they can feel their neck chastising them for spinning it without the consent from the rest of their body.

“Sorry,” Asriel says sheepishly. “Just slipped out of me.”

Frisk shoves their brother’s shoulder with all their might. “I told you to stop doing that, Az!” They massage the back of their neck. “Almost spun my head off.”

“Sorry,” Asriel repeats.

Aofil’s not sure if they’re comfortable with this. “You can still imitate?” They push their fingers into the back of their neck, squeezing it tight as they move their fingers back and forth in an attempt to find which group of muscle fibers hurt them most.

Turns out it’s all of them.

“A bit,” Asriel answers.

“Ha!” comes a loud scoff from Frisk which they swiftly regret as they then bend their head forward. “Ow,” they state.

“Just when I’m around friends though, and always for fun, never for any malicious purpose.”

Sure…

Frisk has already used up their scoff which they regret now. They can only glare hard at Asriel with a deep scowl dragging their face down to their stomach. “And when you imitated me and told MK that I wanted him to come over?”

Oh…

In what way exactly?

“I’d already asked him four times that week! We were so close to finishing that coop campiagn.” Asriel defends while motioning wildly with his hands. “And besides, you wanted him to come over too. I just… said it in your stead, that’s all.”

Frisk’s glare softens, to their disdain. They avert their eyes, mumbling angrily to themselves.

More importantly though to Aofil. “How many can you imitate? Can you still imitate me?”

“The ones Flowey could, I can. Haven’t really dedicated time to improving that skill of mine. Don’t think I can get a lot out of it.” Asriel shrugs his hand upwards. “Well, I know that I can get a lot out of it, yes, but not in a way I want, that is. Undyne once asked me if I could try and shout encouragements in her voice when she was trying to break her personal best in bench pressing. Her logic was that since it works for everyone else, then it should work for her too.”

“Sounds like her logic,” Aofil can confirm.

“She...argued with, and against, her own voice.”

“Sounds like her logic as well.”

“She didn’t break her PB that day,” Asriel informs. “The next day she almost asked me to try with Alphys’ voice, but before she could ask I said no. It would just be awkward.”

Aofil nods along to the imagery popping up in their mind. Of Asriel hunched over a sweating and straining Undyne, yelling encouragements using Alphys’ nasally voice.

Many sleepless nights ahead of Aofil after that mental picture, they hazard.

“Dad and mom know, but they play it for laughs. Mom mostly,” Asriel says with a sigh.

“Toriel?” That’s a surprise. Aofil’s hand nestles underneath their chin. “Pray tell.”

Frisk’s eyes shoot over to Asriel. They seem quite curious about this too.

Asriel’s lips drag back uncomfortably as he places his hand behind his neck, twisting it as he inhales through his clenched teeth. “Jokes,” he admits as his cheeks blush.

“Jokes?” Aofil and Frisk say in baffled unison.

“Her quips and puns. She wants to hear how they sound before she begins weaving it into her repertoire.”

Aofil can’t do anything else but blink. Their mouth form syllables, but no words. “Alright...” they finally manage to produce as the confusion washes away. “Fair enough, I guess.”

Frisk’s expression tells of unfair conditions though.

“Dad just has me answer his phone if he can’t reach it.”

Yes, of course, but back to Toriel. “Does she do that often?” Aofil has to ask. “I just...” Their words fail them again as the myriad of strange reasons flood their mind.

“No, not really,” Asriel answers. “Maybe one is too many, but it’s not like she does it twice a week.”

“Once a week?” Frisk pries.

No answer.

“Oh no...” Frisk hands find their face, buried deep into their palms. “Mom, why?”

At least it’s not the same imitation Flowey did with Toriel when Aofil confronted him for the first time. And speaking of that, did Flowey imitate Aofil? They can’t quite remember him doing that. Too busy trying to kill Aofil and all that. Toriel though, Sans, Asgore, Alphys, Undyne, etc.

“You picked up on Frisk’s voice later though?” Aofil guesses with a slight twirl of their wrist and a subtle lean in with their head. “Because from what I gathered Flowey didn’t imitate Frisk out of respect. Respect that seems to have been lost, funnily enough.”

Frisk would nod if they could.

“Exactly,” Asriel answers. “Flowey could, but he wouldn’t.”

“And despite having a part of, what used to be, my soul, you can’t do my voice through some magical reason?”

Asriel’s brow furrows as he tries to process the question.

“As in, since you’re made out of the soul inside you, and since the soul inside you was, emphasize was, mine, then wouldn’t you be able to use my voice too?”

The brow hit the pavement with an imaginary audible thud.

“I’m trying to understand myself about all of this soul business.” Aofil lifts their fur covered arm and runs their fingers through the snow white hairs. “Since this happened with me.”

“I haven’t tried,” Asriel admits with a shrug. “You want me to try?”

Oh that’s a good question, actually. Aofil remembers having their adrenaline levels spiked when Radentim did his and or her thing all those years ago. Aofil’s not a hundred percent certain that he won’t use it to slink out of class assignments. He’s a normal high school pupil, after all, so of course he’d try to.

There’s also the fact that he’d be able to enter Aofil’s house even easier than he can now. Aofil already knows that they could lock themselves inside the most airtight safe in an undisclosed location inside the observable universe and the monsters would still be able to just show up and invite Aofil out, or the monster in, for lunch, work out, or taking care of pets.

It would save on Aofil having to install new panes of glass in their windows if Asriel could open the door for the monsters.

But now Aofil is reasoning for people to enter their house with even less of an effort so perhaps the answer’s answered itself already.

Yes, the monsters can enter their house more way than water can enter a freaking colander, but if Aofil can plug at least one of those holes, it’s a start.

“No,” they answer.

Let’s see if the plug will hold.

“Alright,” Asriel answers. In his own voice.

Good start.

“Where’s the snail shop, by the way?” Frisk wonders in an attempt to change the subject. “Nearby?”

“Closer to the town center,” Aofil informs while pointing over yonder towards said center. “As in, smacked right in the middle of it. How it managed to stay in business before the monsters resurfaced, I have not the foggiest of clues. Could be that it was a money laundering scheme for all I know.”

“They don’t have to launder money to stay in the black now though,” Frisk adds while tapping their elbow against Asriel’s arm. “I know mom puts in orders whenever she can.”

“That where she gets her snails from normally?” Aofil moves their extended finger over to the now overgrown shortcut they took Frisk through to their soccer practice a long time ago. “Or does she catch the snails herself?”

Frisk’s head is stuck looking the other way, across the street, towards an even more sad looking building.

The orphanage.

Aofil taps on Asriel’s shoulder before he walks off without his sibling. He looks worryingly over to Frisk, but Aofil motions for him to stay put for the time being.

“I’m fine,” Frisk says out loud, probably sensing the worry from Asriel behind them. “I just...”

“You had the same look when we walked here all those years ago, Frisk,” Aofil says, causing Frisk to turn. “Tugged at my shirt and everything. I always found that strange about you. You didn’t really act your age. Couple of years younger than you actually were. I know the reason now, of course, but I didn’t at the time.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Aofil.” Frisk looks over their shoulder, but immediately looks back as if the sight of the orphanage stung them in the eye. The worn down building would cause discomfort in anyone looking at it, but Frisk actually having lived in that must go double for them, at the very least. “You did more than that orphanage had ever done in that short time you were with us back then.”

“Was it really short?” Aofil retorts after motioning with a quick motion of their hand that the three should continue. “If we count the time I spent in the hospital during that first reset...let’s see...”

A quick chuckle escapes Frisk.

“I was kinda under it for a while so I’m not entirely sure the exact number of days,” Aofil defends while tapping the side of their skull. “It’s a good thing the reset happened otherwise I’d have lingering brain damage.”

“No,” Frisk shakes their head while keeping their smile wide, “it’s not that. It’s the fact that you can talk about it so casually. That you’ve gotten over it, at least enough that you can talk about it.” They look at Aofil, and at Asriel. “It feels good to hear that my efforts has come through. That I’ve managed to,” Frisk connects their fingers together, squeezing them tightly, “fix everything, you know?”

Aofil and Asriel share a glance.

“I’m not saying that it’s just because of me.”

“It’s kinda what you said,” Asriel points out while he narrows his eyes.

Frisk sighs through their lips as they massage their forehead. “Let me rephrase that then.” Their hand stops mid squeeze, leaving their forehead wrinkled as if they’ve spent their entire life under water. After a couple of silent second they open their mouth hesitantly. “I...I’m glad that memories finally have come to the point where they’re just that. Memories. Not something we have to be careful to talk about lest deja vu takes over ones mind.” They put their hand over their chest. “Not something that grips me, or you, or you, or anyone else for the matter, by the soul, squeezing it to the point of tears, if not more.”

Aofil puts their hand over their chest as well. They know exactly what Frisk is speaking about.

Asriel does too.

“But now when I say it, it doesn’t feel like the entire world is gonna crash down,” Frisk continues after taking a steadying breath. “It doesn’t feel like a reset would be the best course of action for me. It feels, like nothing.”

Frisk’s hand moves up to their head. “It feels a bit here, but not in my soul, and it’s not like it was before. Not even close. It’s more the feeling you get when you remember that awkward thing you did before.”

Yes...small awkward thing. As all humans do. Die, reset, fuse with a dead monster prince, etc.

“Look.” Frisk heaves another sigh as Asriel and Aofil just shake their head. “You get the gist of it, right? It’s not like before, for the better, right? We’ve moved forward. What happened in the Underground...it happened. We were all there.”

Not everyo-

“Lower your finger, Aofil,” Frisk snarls. “I’m trying to explain this, alright?”

Aofil lowers their halfway raised finger.

“We’ve all moved away from it literally, and now it seems that we’re doing it figuratively as well. It’s just...” Frisk scoffs a chuckle again. “I’m just so relieved! I can’t explain it! It’s so...” They drag a sob through their clogging nose. “It’s so...”

Asriel moves in for Frisk to lean in on. They do so with a smile stretching their cheeks far and wide, but with heavy tears pouring out like the Waterfall through their eyes.

“I’m so...”

They can barely speak.

Poor kid.

Aofil puts a hand on Frisk’s shoulder. “You’ve done good, kiddo. None of us would be here without you. Asriel and I know exactly what you’re talking about, Frisk, don’t you worry. Let those tears flow, you need this.”

Aofil lifts their head up to meet Asriel’s. “You can stand getting your designer shirt wet for your sibling, right?”

Asriel nods. “Royal Sibling Frisk crying their eyes out onto Mettaton merchandise?” he poses, Aofil’s gonna guess rhetorically. “He’d be wheel over box if he saw this excellent advertising opportunity.”

Frisk chokes on a snicker, scoffing hard into Asriel’s shirt. “I don’t know what’s in store for my birthday, but I’ve already gotten the best gift.”

Oh yeah, that.

Aofil still needs to figure out a present to buy for Frisk. Perhaps they should ask some of the goats about it.

But what can they buy that can live up to giving peace of mind?

Hm…

“Give me a minute, will you?” Frisk asks as they gently push away from Asriel. With their hands drying their eyes, Frisk heads over the street towards the orphanage.

“You’re a good brother,” Aofil informs Asriel as Frisk walks out of hearing distance. “Reminds me of my own.”

Asriel turns his furrowed head around.

“My adopted brother,” Aofil adds as they watch Frisk pace carefully at the gate leading up to the orphanage.

“Oh, right.”

“He did good by me. Someone I could lean on when I needed to. Taught me how to pick a lock, almost taught me how to use a skateboard, helped me forge my exam score, etc.”

“Helped you forge your exam score?” Asriel crosses his arms while tilting his chin up to rest it on his moral high ground that he suddenly finds himself on top of. “What a good thing for a teacher to say.”

Aofil shoots back a gaze through narrowed eyes back at Asriel. “It was in elementary school. The teacher had it in for me.”

“And the cycle repeats,” Asriel whispers.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Mhm?

“Anyway.” Aofil pauses for a bit as they see Frisk vault over the gate. Asriel doesn’t react to the action though, so Aofil shouldn’t either. Maybe the two have talked about this before. “What’s a good gift to give to Frisk?”

“You being there is gonna be gift enough,” Asriel assures with a nod.

“You say that,” Aofil pats their chest, “but I won’t feel that. Just give me some suggestions.”

Asriel’s forced to rub his head at that. He blows his lips as he bends his neck backwards. “Putting me on the spot here, Aofil.”

A snicker is summoned out of Aofil. “I might have to retract my statement over you being a good brother.”

“Did your brother get you good gifts?”

“He-” Aofil’s hand move up to their mouth. They can’t lie about that, their body refuses to. It’s such a false pretense that it goes straight to their nervous system. “I might have to retract my statement about retracting my statement.”

Asriel seems relieved over hearing that. “Good,” he says through a relieved sigh, further cementing his relief. “That’s a relief,” he reliefs himself further.

“So, nothing comes to mind?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Asriel says almost like an apology. “Head’s not really in the right phase for planning birthdays at the moment.”

Aofil throws their hand out towards Frisk leaning their closed fist against the orphanage door. “Something to do with this?” they reckon.

“Part of it, yes.”

“Right.”

A woman opens the door to the orphanage. Frisk seems unsure what to do, or what to say. Perhaps they didn’t plan ahead for this, for someone to actually open. Sure doesn’t look like it the way they’re clenching their fists at their sides.

“Have they talked to you about this before?” Aofil asks Asriel, but his eyes are too focused on Frisk to hear what Aofil asked.

It’s answer enough for Aofil though.

The woman exchanges a few words with Frisk, and then motions for the inside. Frisk holds their step on the rickety stairs leading in. Their neck turns just the slightest before moving back forward. Even from across the street Aofil can see their shoulders heave, and their sigh moving in before they do. The woman closes the door slowly after Frisk.

“They have,” Asriel says after waiting for a few seconds. He nods. “I think it was for that reason Frisk decided to follow us here. They could probably see the paint on the wall with the Pastor, and you going to see your parents, Aofil.”

“Ink on the wall, more like.” But Aofil’s in agreement there. Frisk has their eyes opens about the world and people around them.

Well...metaphorically, that is.

“Last chapter for them to close about their time before the Underground?” Aofil hazards a guess. “Kinda like what you did too at the graveyard while talking to my parents?”

Asriel nods before heading for a nearby bench situated at the entrance to the overgrown shortcut. “More or less. I still have something else I want to do when we arrive to the snail shop, if that’s fine with you?”

“It’s gonna be finer if you tell me what it is you’re planning exactly,” Aofil shoots back as they sit down next to Asriel who retracts his arm from laying flat on the backrest.

“That would be spoiling it though?”

Aofil’s eyes dart from side to side as they search for the point.

They don’t find it.

“No?” slips out of their confused tongue. “It wouldn’t? It would-”

But Asriel’s already on his phone.

Typical…

Aofil leans back.

Kids these days. Can’t even go five seconds without fumbling for their phone.

They reach into their pocket.

Aofil’s just gonna check their mail. It’s important stuff, not frivolous like what Asriel’s doing and- Oh! New update about Mew Mew season five?

Aofil’s hunches forward as they read vigorously.

A while after, a shadow is cast over Aofil and Asriel. “Um...”

Hm? What?

“Are we going?”

Aofil looks up. “Yeah.” They pocket their phone. “Sure. How long were you in there, Frisk?”

“A while," they answer.

Oh…

Ow…

Aofil shouldn’t really be leaning forward like that.

They push their lumbar back into place as they stand up from the bench.

Asriel holds his finger extended for a few seconds before he pockets his own phone and hops up, seemingly without any pain or discomfort.

Aofil has to consciously stop themselves from angrily grumbling.

“Right!” Asriel claps his recently vacated hands together. “Let’s go! Snails ahoy.”

Frisk and Aofil share a look.

“Hooray?”


	21. You want soul with that?

“It’s fortunate that the snail shop lies downwind, to be honest.”

“Says you!”

Aofil nods once. “Yes, I do. The ozone in the CORE doesn’t hold a candle to the thick and buzzling cloud ever present in that snail shop. You don’t even have to open up the pots, really. Just grab a container and swoop the air and you’ll get enough taste to last you a lifetime.”

“Plus,” Frisk adds while cupping their hands together. “If you hold a live candle inside the store it’ll,” they throw their arms out, almost hitting both Aofil and Asriel in the face with the back of their palms, “explode!”

Asriel can’t believe his own sibling betraying him like this! “Frisk?” 

They wave the accusation off. “It’s just snails, Asriel. I know you love them, but I don’t.”

“You’ve grown up on them though,” Aofil interjects, akin to throwing fuel onto a fire.

“We already had this discussion less than an hour ago!” Frisk’s hands fall down on the side of their legs with an audible smack. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The plaza’s lights flicker to life. Like big fireflies strung like a necklace worn by the houses circling it, the plaza puts on its dinner accouterments just like its inhabitants are served their own accouterments for their dinners.

A group of monsters and humans sit at a large round table surrounded by potted plants of various colors and shapes. They look like the plants Asgore has in his garden, albeit less, well, taken care of by Asgore. The laughs and guffaws from the group is seldom interrupted, and even more rarely is the interruption not interrupted by a table neighbor elbowing and saying something that causes the half eaten food to spew forth as if shot out of a cannon.

The lingering snicker after the blast sounds fairly similar to the simmer of said cannon cooling down after discharging.

Aofil suggests with a subtle nudge to Frisk that maybe they should stay clear of that table lest they get a free serving of half eaten food served directly onto their clothes.

Frisk sends the nudge over to Asriel. “So, now that you’re here, Az.”

“Hm?” he answers vacantly.

Frisk lifts up one of his ears and snap their fingers underneath it. He recoils from the sound, jerking his ear back to his cheek with a soft thud. “Now that you’re here, Az,” Frisk repeats. “Pray tell. You promised us you would.”

Asriel eyes move over to Aofil for a second before returning to Frisk’s. “Last time I was here with Aofil, we went to the snail shop.”

“That I know, yes,” Frisk answers.

“And the cashier recognized me.”

“As in?”

“Me being the prince.”

“Right.”

Asriel turns himself over towards the snail shop. “It didn’t really sit well with me at the time.”

“We talked about that,” Aofil remembers. “Quite a bit, actually. Both on the drive over, and during our dinner.”

“Did some on the way back with the tow driver too.”

“History repeats, it seems.” Aofil nods to themselves. “And now you’re gonna try and see if you’ve learned from it?”

“More or less,” Asriel answers while dragging a steadying sigh. He lingers his eyes on the storefront. On the sign that says ‘Shelling snails with great taste and prices for all your gastroponimal needs!’

His eyes quickly move on from that.

“I have to see if this...feeling I have.” Asriel puts his hand over his chest. “I have to test if it might be permanent. I have to push it to its brink to see if I can rely on it from now on.”

“What’s the feeling?” Aofil asks despite having a pretty good guess what it might be.

Asriel exhales a pleased snicker through his nose. He turns his head slowly around while exposing his teeth in a relieved smile. “Hope.”

Close enough of a guess.

“I...I’m not sorry about saying this, but I’m not happy either. Might afterwards once it’s sunk in a bit, but I feel like I’ve been carrying Chara around ever since I came back. Your soul and theirs, Aofil, they’re the same, as you probably know.”

Not to their pleasure.

“They feel the same too to us monsters. I’ve always known that it’s been yours, but I’ve always felt that it was Chara’s. Can’t speak for what mom and dad feel, but they’ve coped with it better than I have, that’s for certain.”

Aofil and Frisk trade glances as Asriel’s busy closing his eyes as he squeezes his chest harder.

“But as time’s gone on, and Chara’s been...not forgotten, but less influential, I’ve struggled to feel who’s soul it is that’s inside of me. Is it mine? No, it’s a human’s. Is it yours, Aofil? I couldn’t know, since you weren’t with us. It’s been something foreign to me, and if my soul is foreign, am I foreign?”

Without thinking, Aofil clasps their hand around the fur on their other arm. They realize their action a moment later, but they have no recollection of doing it. Could it be...

“And it was cycling like that as I grew up. My magic, it felt like someone else’s, and since I am the magic, then how can I be myself?” Asriel throws his hand up haphazardly, letting it fall freely onto his thigh. “Then you came back, Aofil. You came back, and that feeling came back. About Chara, about you, I couldn’t differentiate the two.”

Explains a few things.

“I guess...I took it out on you because I felt you to be Chara. It took me a while before I realized that you were not.”

Aofil nods. “I see.”

“I know it’s not an excuse, but it is an explanation. Although, I can’t say that it really got better once I felt it to be your soul too. Might’ve gotten Chara out of the picture, but I still felt like it wasn’t me inside.”

“I’ve told you-”

“I know you’ve told me,” Asriel interrupts harshly. He bites down immediately after. Seems like he did it a bit too harshly for himself. “And I know that, but it wasn’t until the graveyard that I felt it. When we...sparred, I felt your presence more than ever, Aofil. I felt something else too, but it took me a while before I realized that. I flew up wide awake a couple of nights after.”

“Oh...” Frisk nods as their brow furrows. “So that’s why...”

“What did you think I was doing?” Asriel shoots back while leaning his head in towards Frisk.

“It’s better if I don’t answer it. Trust me on that.”

“I was not-”

“Alright!” Aofil’s putting a stop to this before they hear too much. Even if it means the large table nearby turning quiet and looking over their way. Aofil waits for the laughter and joyful banter to resume from behind them before motioning for Asriel to continue.

“I,” Asriel takes a deep breath, “I felt myself too.” He looks over to Aofil’s arm. “The small, tiny, sliver that was left behind by the Asriel that died as he fused with Chara. The Asriel that became Flowey, I felt him.”

Frisk takes a step into his vision. “Asriel, you are-”

Asriel interrupts Frisk with a palm raised sternly. “I realized that I felt him, and that he felt like me. That I felt something that I could say was me. What I wanted me to feel like. The following days the feeling grew stronger and stronger. A seed that’s taken root. When it did though, I felt something else. You, Aofil, I felt you getting anxious, scared.”

They’re not sure how to feel about Asriel talking about them feeling. Does he mean their soul? He has to be, right?

“When we reached your family’s grave, Aofil. When I kneeled down at it, your soul spoke to me.”

“Literally?”

Asriel’s eyes turn sour and angry. “Just be quiet for now, okay?” he almost scolds to Aofil. No sign of regretting that too. His eyes keep their hard stare even after Aofil flinches from the sheer growl behind the words.

They put up their palms in surrender. “Sorry.”

Damn, Aofil still has no clue about this soul business. Looks like they never will considering how much information has been poured all over them yet with nothing sticking.

“Just as how your parents spoke to you, Aofil, your soul spoke to me. I guess it only now realized that it wasn’t inside you any longer. It’s a fighter, it’s kept up hope about returning to you for all this time. It took me praying to your parents that it finally understood that it shouldn’t no longer. It should no longer fight to remain yours since it was no longer yours. It knew, but now it felt it too. It wasn’t sad about it though. It understood, but it asked me if it could say goodbye first. It did so with a child’s voice. It sounded a lot like Chara’s. It wasn’t Chara though, it was yours. I felt that, and then...”

Asriel scoffs, knocking a couple of tears out of his eyes.

“I felt myself.”

“Huh...” No wonder he’s been so uppity all of a sudden. “Feels good?” Aofil asks.

Asriel nods. “It does.” Carefully he dries off his eyes, lingering his hand so that he can see the drops absorb into his fur. “My god it does.”

The large table again turns quiet, and murmurs start circling, as well as subtle twists of the occupants’ heads as they cast glances over their shoulders over to Asriel. He seems to be feeling them hitting his back, so he straightens it out. He inhales some careful breaths, exhaling them quietly before spinning on his heels.

Alright?

The table is silenced in shock as Asriel walks over with a slight bow to mark his entrance. “I do hope I am not interrupting your company, but I couldn’t help but feel your curiosity tugging at my collar. No reason to apologize for that,” he assures with a soft motion of his hand towards the table. “Was there anything you wanted to ask me, perchance?”

The table trade glances with itself. Worried, almost guilty looks, shoot across like an unmanned hose on full blast. One of the monsters, an orange lizard of sorts, opens her mouth timidly. “W-we were just curious why the Prince was here.” She moves her hand up and down Asriel’s body. “In...not Royal Purple. Not the wine, that is, but the robes.”

Asriel tilts his chin down at his clothes. “Gotta wash it every once in a while,” he says with a smile and a warm chuckle.

Aofil can’t help but hear Asgore’s voice in that chuckle. The same hearty laugh summoned from the most jolly, or golly, of places. It’s not that he’s mimicking his dad, but that he’s sounding just the same, without mimicking.

“Any worries you’re having?” Asriel asks as he puts his hands together while looking across the table. “Utilities, buildings, holes in the road?” he continues while moving his open palms as trays of finger food.

Heh, finger food.

Frisk shoves their elbow into Aofil side to shut their giggling up.

The table hesitates to answer. Too baffled to figure one out, it looks like. Aofil would be too, so they’re not blaming them. 

“Refill of drinks?”

Alright, maybe he’s going a bit too far now.

“Toothpicks?”

Maybe has become certainly!

Aofil steps up to Asriel, placing a hand on his shoulder as they bow respectfully. “Prince?” The word feels weird in Aofil’s mouth. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re on the clock, remember?”

Asriel opens his mouth to retort, but Aofil squeezes his very visible tendon with their finger, so nothing comes out of it.

“I wish you a pleasant evening,” Aofil informs the table before steering Asriel away. “Come now, Prince.”

“But-”

Aofil pushes another squeeze into Asriel’s shoulder. “We mustn’t dawdle.”

The fact that Aofil’s found themselves in a situation where saying that actually makes sense is gonna haunt them for the rest of their life. 

“What the hell was that?” asks Frisk after throwing their arms out. They keep them outstretched as Asriel shakes his head and smacks his lips in thought. It’s a good thing Undyne’s been training Frisk, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to keep their arms like that for as long as it takes for Asriel to finish deliberating.

“I...I think I feel it now.” Asriel says as he traces his finger over his chest. “Think I know where it is.”

“It sounded like it took you over a bit though,” Aofil informs while subtly nodding back to the table that’s luckily retreated back to talking among itself. “That the hope you were talking about?”

Asriel nods. “Yes, and yes, I might’ve lost myself a bit there.”

Frisk steps forward. “You’ve no idea how glad I am to be hearing you not collapsing in on yourself after someone sees you as the Prince, even more so you acting like one. It’s...” They has to put a hand up to their head to stop it spinning. “It’s a bit confusing to watch, to say the least.”

“I think Frisk is trying to say that it’s a good thing, this,” Aofil explains to Asriel after a perplexed shake of his head. “But that it might’ve been a bit too much. I’m glad too that you’ve seemingly gotten over this. It’s great!” They raise their index finger slowly. “However, it’s also a bit weird.”

Frisk agrees with a nod. “I guess this is what we can call your magic from now on, Az. You’re gonna have to learn it though. Gonna have to learn how to not act like you’re trying to sell them pyramid schemes, you know?”

“Is...” Asriel’s head turns halfway around before he realizes that it might be a bad idea. “Is that what I sounded like? To me, it sounded like I was on top of things.”

Aofil pinches their index finger and thumb together while narrowing their eyes. “A bit too much on top of things.” They shrug friendly immediately after though. “But hey, it’s progress. Damn good progress! I can’t see anything bad with having you finally come out of your shell, so to speak.”

“Would make Gerson happy, at the very least,” Asriel adds with a chuckle.

Aofil offers an understanding, yet stern hand on Asriel’s shoulder. He tenses it in case Aofil decides to squeeze it again. They’re tempted too. “You’re taking after Toriel in the wrong way, Asriel. Didn’t you express a bit of embarrassment when she asked you to imitate her?”

“I’m allowed to make jokes,” Asriel retorts.

No.

“Anyways!” Aofil releases their grip from Asriel. “Dinner. That’s why we came here, right? Asriel has shown us that he’s come to understand himself.” They extend their finger over to Frisk. “You’ve had your shoulders lifted as if tied to helium balloons. And I have learned that I may or may not have had a mage as an old relative. We’ve earned our appetite, let’s sate it.”

Frisk nods over to the snail shop to get the other to follow them. “Weren’t you against Cter being your relative when you heard it, Aofil?”

They shrug. “Now that I’ve digested it, unlike the dinner I’ve craved for.”

“So why are you allowed to make jokes?” Asriel asks. “Just because you have a mage in your family tree?”

“Something along those line.”

Asriel shakes his head. “Guess I’ll have to inform Sans and mom when I get home.”

“Yeah, too bad.” Aofil stops. “Don’t tell them anything about Cter, by the way.”

Frisk stops too, albeit with a more annoyed gesture as they throw up their hands. “Could you please make up your mind, Aofil?” 

“I’m just...” Oh, Aofil is too hungry to argue this. They’ll cross that bridge once they get some food in them. “Alright, tell them if you feel you need to. Let’s get some eating going.”

“So I’m guessing that I’m heading over to the snail shop while you two head somewhere else?” Asriel asks while throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Meet you at the place we sat before, Aofil?”

“Sure.” Aofil nods to Frisk. “There’s a hole in the wall a bit further away that does pretty good grill by a fire monster. Not as good as Grillby’s, but still very much eatable. Same soda, by the way, Az?” they remind themselves to ask.

“Yup!” he answers with half a shout before entering the snail shop. Through the glass window the two humans can see Asriel startling the monster cashier by his presence. Before it can bow he puts up a friendly hand to stop it, and motions it afterwards across the many flavors on display.

“It is really weird seeing him act like that,” Frisk comments under their breath as they turn away to look for the hole in the wall. “But god damn, I can’t feel bad about it.”

Good to hear.

“Things are looking up,” Aofil adds while taking a deep breath. “Can’t say that I can feel about that neither. Cter not withstanding, that is.”

“Not to be rude, but if its really been as long as to cover two whole books of family trees, then it shouldn’t really be that much of a matter?” Frisk points over to the hole in the wall they hazard to be the one Aofil talked about. “It’s like calling a drop of soda in a pitcher of water bad for your teeth.”

Aofil can...kinda...agree to that. “Well since my dad did some magic before I can’t really put it all the way behind me, but that’s for me to do, you do whatever. Don’t really think it’ll make that big a difference, unless Cter was in the part of my soul that Asriel took and is now controlling him like a-”

“Stop.”

Yeah, Aofil should probably stop. “Anyways.” They clear their throat. “Still don’t have any clue what the monsters are to do for your birthday, Frisk. I’ll get back to poking about tomorrow once today is over.”

Frisk extends an approving thumb. “Neat. Gotta say that I’m looking forward to it a bit better now that today’s happened, to be honest. Less real worry, so now I can spend more of that worry about how embarrassing they’re gonna make it.”

“I think I might be involved.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Frisk stops in their track, eyes opened wide. “Could you order for me?” Their knees bend, and their head begin darting back and forth, surveying the area in half a panic. “Please?”

Aofil stops as well. “What is it?”

“You see a toilet nearby?”

Oh. “Yeah, I think at the exit and to the left. What do you want?”

“Justaburgerwithfriesandwhateversoda!” Frisk answers as they burst away in a whole a panic.

Fair enough. Hopefully they’re back before Aofil has to carry everything to the table.

Oh, wait. They were served in a second when they ordered before.

Dammit.

They could sure use a pair of hands right now.

“order ketchup for me?”

“Fuck! Shit!” Aofil recoils violently away from the sudden gust of wind materializing next to them. 

The fire monster from inside the hole in the wall pokes his head out. “You alright?”

Aofil has to let their heart settle itself back down into their chest before they can answer. “Y-yes. I’ll order in a bit.”

“I’ll be here,” the fire monster informs before returning to his station.

“i heard they got some from the underground here. been a while. do it for a friend? some ketching up?”

Aofil’s teetering whether to kick or shove Sans. They’d do both if they could. “What are you doing here?”

“isn’t it-”

“No,” Aofil interrupts with a stern palm raised. “It’s never obvious with you. Never has, never will. What do you want?”

“got a call from queen’s truly,” he explains while none too subtly nodding for the hole in the wall. “said i should hand you this here document i have inside my jacket.”

“Apparently she don’t want me to read it since it’ll be stained with more varieties of condiments than this here grill shop.”

Sans shrugs. “i’m just the messenger.”

“Sure you are. Stained messenger.”

The fire monster pokes his head up again. “So, what’ll it be?” he asks while tapping the plastered menu next to his hole.

“Two number nines. Two, no, three colas to boot.”

“Number nine large?” the fire monster pries.

“No, but one with extra dip, please.”

“Anything else?”

Aofil glances down at Sans. They sigh. “Two containers of ketchup to go along. Make one as big as you can, please.”

The fire monster blinks once, and a pair of small orange embers sail up before sizzling away. “Alright, give me just a sec.”

Aofil swipes their card to pay before turning their head down to Sans. “Can you help me carry it all to the table? Frisk left for the bathroom, and by some magical coincidence you showed up just after.”

“yeah, i know,” Sans answers while tucking his hand underneath his chin. “what extreme coincidence that i would wait for chance to not have the person i’m trying to keep what i’m gonna give you a secret about to not be nearby when i reveal it.”

“Here you go!” The fire monsters almost shoves the two bags of really tasty smelling food into Aofil’s arms. “Ketchup is inside.”

“keeping it hostage, are we?” Sans accuses with a chuckle before grabbing Aofil’s side. A second later they’re at an empty table, and Sans looks up to Aofil for his payment.

“Wrong table.” Aofil nods over to the one they and Asriel sat at before. “It’s that one.”

“that’ll cost you extra.”

Aofil withholds their answer until after the second shortcut. “No, it’ll not,” they say as they place down the bags of food. They rummage through one, and find a container of ketchup that they hand over to Sans. 

He takes it while putting his hand inside his jacket.

“Didn’t know you could shortcut all this way, Sans.”

“i can’t.”

“So?”

His eyes narrow in confusion. “so i just did it more than one time,” he explains. His tone suggests that he shouldn’t have to. “you of all people...”

Aofil takes the document in their hand. It’s stained, but luckily the fire monster threw in a bunch of paper napkins along with the food. Must’ve deduced the necessity from the look of Sans’ jacket.

“keep it away from the kiddo though,” Aofil hears Sans say, but fails to catch him saying it. A small breeze passes their legs from where he stood just a second ago.

Aofil opens the folder, and their brow immediately furrows.

“What in the goddamn?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What in the goddamn indeed.
> 
> So what did Aofil read, exactly?
> 
> Vote here:
> 
> [Alphys](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372566)
> 
>  
> 
> [Aofil](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372560)
> 
>  
> 
> [Asgore](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372571)
> 
>  
> 
> [Asriel](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372574)
> 
> [Mettaton](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372579)
> 
> [MK](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372589)
> 
> [Papyrus](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372593)
> 
> [Sans](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372599)
> 
> [Toriel](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372601)
> 
> [Undyne](https://www.strawpoll.me/16372611)
> 
> Voting is open until the release of the next chapter.


	22. Humans to be humored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more week of voting, by the way. Was supposed to say "next next chapter" in the previous chapter notes.

“What in the goddamn?”

“Yeah! I know!”

“But why would you show this to me, Aofil?”

“Just thought you should know.”

“Alright? I’m not sure how I’ll have use of this homework though.”

Aofil halts their cup at their lips. “Homework?” they ask as they carefully set the cup back down. “What do you mean?”

Tylior sends the folder back over the table with a quick flick before picking up his own cup as Aofil leans forward. “The homework you just gave me.”

Aofil didn’t…

Oh, they did.

They shove the homework essay back into their bag. Carefully they rummage around the housewarming present taking up most of the space in their bag. The other folder is a little bit stuck. Maybe if they carefully…

Ah! There we go!

Aofil checks the content to make sure it isn’t another homework. Nope, it’s the correct one this time. They slide it over in time for Tylior to return his now half empty cup of coffee to the table. He picks it up and opens it. His brow immediately shoot down over his eyes, like an anchor being dropped into the sea. The chain dragging the wrinkles on his forehead ever deeper until he can barely see through the perplexed flesh covering his eyes.

“What in the goddamn?” he repeats.

“Yeah. I know.”

“But why would you show this to me, Aofil?”

“Just thought you should know.”

“Alright? I’m no sure how I’ll have use of these plans though. I mean...” His words trail off as he skims the pages again, lifting them up and rechecking them so quickly he might whip up a hurricane from flapping the paper so much. “Why would the Queen be-”

His eyes begin to blink. Aofil knows the pattern. Disbelief. Proper disbelief.

Same as they had when they first lay eyes upon it.

“Why are you on this list? And why are you… No, that can’t be right. That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“It does! Plenty of sense!” Aofil retorts as they beckon for Tylior to hand it back over.

He seems to be glad to get it off his hands. “How so?”

Aofil shrugs. “Beats me since I haven’t figured it out yet.” They deposit the folder back into their backpack and pick up their cup. A quick refresh of their mouth later they lean back in their chair. “It’s a miracle I’ve been able to think clearly this last week. Just another sign that the absurd has become normal for me, I guess. This though.” Aofil taps their backpack with the heel of their foot. “This takes the cake.”

A spider rappels down curiously.

“No thanks,” Aofil informs it. “Just a coffee for today. We’re about to leave.”

The spider nods and zips back up into the rafters.

“I didn’t see Muffet’s name on the folder.” Tylior nods carefully inside the Spider Cafe. “Didn’t she play a part in Frisk’s travels?”

“Not a lot if I got the story straight,” Aofil answers before sipping themselves some more coffee. “Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion that she’s gonna contribute in her own way.”

Tylior shoots a glance through the large window towards Muffet working busily inside her bakery. He thumbs his spider web laced coffee cup carefully before nodding to himself. “I see.” He puts the cup against his lips, but removes it immediately afterwards as he finds it to be empty. Another spider rappels down and points one of its legs at the cup. Tylior looks over to Aofil with eyebrows raised in question.

“Up to you,” Aofil answers as they finish their own coffee. “Do we have time? What time is it?”

Tylior throws his arm up so that his long sleeved shirt retracts to expose his wristwatch. “Sevoltne should be here in a few minutes, if she’s not just around the corner.”

“Then we’re good,” Aofil relays to the spider. It swings itself up.

“Is Muffin gonna come screeching out the door any second now?” Tylior asks with a sigh as he observes the spider slipping back inside through a knothole in one of the planks.

Aofil doesn’t even have time to answer before the glass door a few meters behind them is flung wide open accompanied with an incredibly slobbering sound. Aofil scoots their chair back a few reserved hops to have some space between them and the table. “No jumping, Muffin,” they say over their shoulder to the large spider running his damnedest and with his tongue dragging almost the entire length of his body. 

“No whining either,” Aofil adds as Muffin stops in his track while averting his head with an angry huff. “I’m going to a housewarming party with my friend here.”

Muffin’s eyes peer hard at Tylior.

“No jealousy too, Muffin.”

He goes back to his huffing.

“Really amazing how you’re comfortable with this, Aofil,” Tylior says from his perched position on his chair with his legs retracted up on it.

“Once you get to know him,” Aofil explains while scratching Muffin behind his ear. “Although getting to know him is the tough part, I admit, but once you do.” They move their scratching fingers a bit further down, causing Muffin to fall over in a pleased sigh. His tongue rolls out onto the pavement, but Aofil carefully kicks it back up on his exposed stomach with their toes. “You want to?”

“No.”

“Alright. Your loss.”

“No.”

Fair enough.

“Ahuhuhu~” Muffin’s head greets as she leans it out from the glass door frame. Her pigtails whip hard from the abrupt stop. “Leaving already, Aofil?”

Muffin’s eyes lock hard on Aofil. He wants to know too.

“Just a coffee for today, Muffet,” Aofil has to unfortunately inform her. They check behind their shoulder with Tylior. “Right?”

“Yes,” Tylior answers after throwing a seething look at Aofil for putting it all on him.

“Then I’ll go get your order then, Aofil,” Muffet says with giddy and excitement. She whistles once to get Muffin’s attention. He follows her back inside with the same giddy and excitement like his owner has.

“Order?” Tylior pries.

“For your housewarming.”

“Oh.”

A minute later Muffet appears again carrying a silk wrapped parcel, probably of her own making, in two of her hands. She skits over to Aofil and hands it over along with a note.

Note?

“Is it a declaration of love?” Tylior teases with an intrigued smile stretching his cheeks after Muffet heads back into her cafe. “Pray share?”

Aofil shoots back a pair of unamused eyes. They present the note between two of their fingers. “It’s the check. Still want it?”

Tylior sighs, almost as if Aofil’s disappointed him by telling the truth. “No, it’s fine.” His ear cocks and he turns his head around. “Sevoltne is here now,” he informs as he stands up.

Aofil packs in the parcel into their bag while Tylior is busy looking out for when Sevoltne rounds the corner. She does a couple of seconds after Aofil’s managed to stuff the parcel as carefully as they can inside their backpack.

“Did you know that Aofil has an affair with the owner of the Spider Cafe?” Tylior asks Sevoltne as he seats himself in the passenger seat.

“Did you also know that Tylior is full of shit?” Aofil adds as they seat themselves behind Tylior.

“Sounds like the two of you had a pleasant time,” Sevoltne sighs out before racking the car violently into first gear so that Tylior can’t turn around to continue his childish behavior. “Your friends are already at the apartment, by the way.”

“What?” Tylior checks his watch again. “Why are they here so early?”

“Because you told them an hour earlier than what you planned too, I’m guessing,” Sevoltne answers with a slight ruffle to her feathers.

“Why didn’t they call?” Tylior wonders out loud as he rummages through his pocket. He manages to fish up his phone with a stern grunt, and checks it.

His face drains of color, and Aofil has to squint against the imposing white color reflecting in the rear view mirror.

“I had it on silent...”

Not even a sigh from Sevoltne. That says a lot. He must be doing that more than regularly if she can’t even muster up a sigh to shame him.

“Reminds me of when I had to jump between mine and your class because you slept in that one exam day when you absolutely couldn’t sleep in, Tylior.” Aofil shakes their head in acted disappointment. “Gonna have to take more than magic to get you to act as a proper adult, it seems. Not to undermine your efforts, Sevoltne.”

She meets Aofil in the rear view mirror. “You have a human soul, you try and convince him.” Her eyes saunter over to Tylior for a moment. He meets her with a warm smile, but she retreats away her eyes and shakes her head again. “I don’t think even the King or Queen would be strong enough to get him on other thoughts. Human influence is the only thing I can think to even come close to get him to act properly.”

“That reflects badly on you though,” Tylior retorts with a sinister grin.

“Pray tell,” Sevoltne challenges with a stern look.

“Because you love me.”

Wow!

Tylior’s soul must be bravery.

Or stupidity.

Probably the latter.

The car is still moving and he’s still inside it opposed to having been instantly thrown out by the sheer force of Sevoltne’s stare.

Guess he’s correct.

“You wouldn’t mind waiting a minute or so before entering, Aofil?” Tylior asks as Sevoltne pulls up to the apartment complex. “I have to look at least a bit competent as a host and arrive by myself instead of giving the notion that I’m prioritizing other guests.”

Both Aofil and Sevoltne halt their hands at the release for their seat belt in stunned bafflement.

“What?” the two mouth in tandem.

“Just trust me,” he pleads.

“No.”

“A favor to me, Aofil?” Tylior tries again with his hands put together, begging profusely. “Please?”

“I guess I can.” Aofil’s not really a hundred percent sure what the hell he’s talking about though. Way below a hundred percent. Ten?

No, still too much.

Tylior bounces out of the car with spring in his step. It takes a few second for Sevoltne to thaw up from her confused state and follow him. The two of them grab a bag each from the trunk, and Aofil takes their own backpack with them as they exit the car.

The building looks very modern. Perhaps it was one that Aofil looked at before when they lived with their fur covered arm hidden and shamed. The thought doesn’t bring a lot of worry to Aofil, which is a good sign. Guess they’ll just...lean up against the wall and count to a hundred or something.

“Code is 7235,” Tylior relays as he types it in on the keypad. “Fifth floor, second door to the right. Has my last name on it, you can’t miss it.”

Aofil slides their foot between the door and the frame just before it closes. “How many minutes?” they ask to Tylior entering the elevator.

He holds up an open hand.

Is he just waving? Or does he mean five minutes?

The ding and subsequent whir of the elevator drowns out Aofil’s request for clarification, and they’re left alone to wait.

He really is a character, that Tylior. Aofil’s never gonna manage to wrap their head around him. It’s good for them though.

Hopefully.

Be a bit confused about humans for a change. Gotta strike a balance. Soul mysteries and haunting memories on one hand. Human friend acting weird and confusing on the other.

Might not be perfect harmony with equal weight on both side, granted, yes. However, it’s a semblance of balance, and that Aofil’s gonna take hook, line, and sinker.

How long has it been now?

One minute? Two?

Three is stretching it.

Four might be too.

Five is definitely stretching it.

But it’s not breaking it.

So five minutes it is!

Time to head up.

A shadow passes them by on the ground. Aofil turns around, but they fail to catch who cast it.

Whatever then.

Aofil shares their elevator ride up along with a small rabbit sized monster with three eyes, making the right choice to wait for it to ask them for help to hit the top button instead of them asking to begin with.

Huh, maybe they’re starting to learn at least a bit.

They offer friendly nod to the monster as they exit the elevator on the fifth floor and get one back.

Right, second door to the right. Must be the one with the friendly commotion coming out of it. Aofil rings the doorbell, stopping just short of announcing their name to it. Which reminds them that they should add Tylior to their own doorbell when they get home later today.

The door is opened and a, feigned, surprised Tylior throws his arms out. “Aofil! You came!”

Aofil joins in the facade. “I did! Amazing!”

Tylior motions for them to take it down a notch or two before beckoning them inside. “Come in! Come in! We were just talking about you.”

Okay? “Is that so?” Aofil asks with a slight tilt of their brow. “Me?”

From further inside the apartment comes loud whispering. “Aofil? Here?” The voices are...familiar. Very familiar!

Is it?

Tylior nods with a pleased smile. “Been a while since we all had drinks together, so I figured why not get the gang back together now that I have a reason for it.” He motions for Aofil to follow him. “I’ll get you a glass, you say hi to them.”

As Aofil enters the living room they almost stumble back out of it. 

They’re here!

“Aofil!” Julie shouts as she rushes over with her arms ready to embrace. “It’s been so long! You’re teaching at Above School, right?” she asks as she wraps her arms around Aofil’s shoulders. Her drink almost spills out on Aofil’s back in her haste.

“Y-yeah,” Aofil answers as Julie lets them go. They survey the crowded living room. They’re all here. Julie, Frank, Piloya, Hetra. All of Aofil’s previous colleagues! 

Man...it’s been a while now.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, Aof!” Hetra teases while looking out the window. He drags a long whistle through his lips. “You of all people moving to Monster City.”

Aofil scratches their head at that. Nothing much else they can do, really. “Yeah.” Their confession borders guilt, and it might just as well be, considering the sudden silence they summoned with their scratch.

The soft fur passing across their cheek as they bring their arm back down might be the actual reason though as the entire room follows the movement with their eyes. Aofil turns it for them to better see.

“So that’s why you always wore long sleeves.” Piloya leans back onto the window sill with her arms crossed and her finger tapping on her half empty glass of beer. “Hetra,” she addresses with a subtle shake to her head. “You don’t even have to pay me for that bet. I mean, you have to, obviously,” she quickly corrects with a quick shrug of her shoulder, “but...you know.”

Aofil takes the glass handed to them from Tylior while keeping their eyes peeled on their ex colleagues. “You made bets about my arm?”

“Burn damage was the closest guess.”

Alright?

“We didn’t, I mean it sounds like we did, I get that, but we didn’t do it out of malice. We were just curious, and it was obviously something that weighed heavy on you.” Hetra explains with a hesitant movement of his glass. “Then when we heard that you put in your resignation and moved to Monster City, then all bets were off.”

“Apparently not since you owe Piloya for being wrong about my arm,” Aofil counters while flashing their arm. “You were all in on it?”

“Not Tylior.”

Aofil glances over to him. He shrugs.

“Something about knowing too much for it to be fair,” Frank says with a slight sigh to his voice. “If that was the case then none of us would’ve done it. We all knew about it.”

Aofil looks down at their drink. They swirl it carefully. “About my-”

“Yes.”

They put their drink up to their lips. “Right. I see.”

A heavy silence falls on the room.

They all knew? That’s not really a surprise to Aofil, but hearing it out loud. It’s a bit...tough. It’s all in the past though.

Aofil exhales deeply.

It’s all in the past…

Let it stay there.

“Anyways!” cheers Tylior, smashing the silence violently, starling his guests. “Sevoltne should be back in a bit with the hummus we forgot to buy, but I hope that the snacks are edible for now.”

“Where is Sevoltne, by the way?” Aofil asks curiously. Isn’t she here?

Tylior freezes in his outstretched pose for a second before thawing. “She’s out to the corner shop. Like I said.”

“I didn’t see her leave.”

“She has wings.” Tylior looks disappointed that he has to remind Aofil.

Oh, right.

“That’s another thing we’ve kinda wondered about, Aofil,” voices Juile. “Your...indifference to monsters…when you worked with us.” She meets Aofil’s eyes with her own curious ones. Hungrily, almost. Like Aofil’s about to reveal the secrets to the Universe. “And then...Monster City? Of all places?”

Aofil’s gonna need another sip of their drink for this one.

“Oh, they know the Royals on a first name basis,” Tylior answers before Aofil can finish their sip. “So they got a first pass.”

The drink barely has time to settle in Aofil’s mouth before they spurt it out along with a shocked cough.

The entire room falls dead silent, outside of Aofil’s rugged chokes. They can hear their rough inhale echo around the room after they manage to get some control over it.

“They’ve also showered with the leader of the Royal Guard and the Royal Scientist too.”

“No!” Aofil returns to their coughing as their desperate denial has their throat almost fold itself out of their mouth. 

Dammit, Tylior!

Once Aofil manages to get their lungs back under their control they take a deep breath. It aches in their throat.

“You know the Royals?” comes a quizzical question from Julie. She looks over her shoulder to the others, but they shrug their shoulders. Just as confused, they are. They’re not fully convinced, if you consider their unconvinced expression, that is.

“It’s a long story.” Aofil blows their lips as they shake their head. “A very long one.”

“Good thing we have plenty of time then!” cheers Tylior. “Why don’t you hand me my housewarming gift and then we’ll get underway with it.”

“You serious?” Aofil challenges with their brow lowered. They already know the answer though. Of course he is. Not serious in the sense of the word, quite the opposite, but he’s not gonna back away from this. Aofil walked right into his trap.

Rung the doorbell on the trapdoor, and stepped right in.

Dammit, Tylior.

Aofil’s gonna need something a bit stronger than the Mettaton branded beer Tylior handed them though if they’re gonna do this. Good thing they have a remedy for that.

Oh yes.

Aofil hands Tylior back the glass of barely sipped beer before squatting down to their backpack. They zip it open and hand Tylior the parcel ordered from Muffet.

Spider Candles, to summon spiders to take care of mosquitoes and such. Call it a monkey’s paw for Tylior. Gets what he wishes for when he complained about how there are always so many insect buzzing around his balcony. Won’t be having a lot of them around along with the spiders summoned by the candle.

Careful what you wish for.

“Here you go, Tylior,” Aofil says with a warm smile as they hand over the box. “A little something for you and the missus.”

“Thanks!”

Hehehehehehehe.

But now, for the piece de resistance, or bottle du Royale, to be more specific, or whatever it would be called properly.

A dark and mysterious purple haze is cast all over the brightly painted room as the sun crashes into the glass bottle with pressed markings in the shape of the Delta Rune. The entire room drags a collective breath. Stunned, adored, confused.

Mesmerized.

“I-is t-that?”

“Yup!” Aofil confirms with a smack of their lips. “A bottle of Royal Purple, and not only that.” They spin the bottle around and tap the bottom of the neck on the Delta Rune. “See this? Family Reserve.”

Since the rest of the room is too stunned to move an inch, Aofil decides to do Tylior’s work for him and pour everyone some of this purple gold.

“It all began one faithful day,” Aofil begins as they pop the cork. The healthy sound bounces pleasantly around the tiles in Tylior’s kitchen. “Faithful is a good word to use, since that was what had me getting up of the bed. A feeling of faithfulness.” They fumble for a couple of seconds between Tylior’s many kitchen drawers before finding some proper wine glasses that they arrange neatly on the kitchen island. Nothing less for this fine gift. “One I hadn’t felt in quite a while, but something happened that day that made me go...”

Aofil carefully moves the bottle between each glass.

“Screw it. This, this is the day!”

They reseal the cork.

“The iron gate squeaked as I opened it.”


	23. To celebrate the fallen

“Was that really a good idea to tell them all, Aofil?”

“I omitted some parts, of course.” Aofil quells a yawn while stretching their hands behind their back. “Didn’t tell them everything.”

“Probably for the better.”

They shake their hands loose. “Yup.”

Asriel spins the bus time table fastened on the pole next to the bench him and Aofil’s sitting on with a disinterested finger.

“It should be here by now, right?” Aofil asks over Asriel’s shoulder. The table is written in a rather small font, and that’s not even considering the plastic cover that’s inflated and bent in such a way that it’s obscuring the already barely readable font.

Asriel runs his finger down the plastic film to straighten it out for him to see. He still has to narrow his eyes to read. “Should be here any minute now,” he relays with a quick tilt of his head.

“It’s too bad Sans couldn’t just shortcut the two of us there.”

Asriel gives the time table a flick with his finger before shrugging his shoulders. “He’s probably busy with transporting everything over to Ebott. Or just busy, acting busy. Or busy...”

“Busy being himself so that he has to take a rest from being himself which only makes him more busy?” Aofil hazards a guess which they feel is pretty likely to be true. 

“Exactly. Would be my guess as well.”

“Gives us time to talk,” Aofil suggests. “If you want to, that is.”

Asriel nods to the bus rounding the corner before standing up. “About what?” he asks as he takes out his wallet and transit card.

Aofil fishes out theirs as well. “Been a few weeks since you got comfortable with the prince role. Heard you did some stuff afterwards with it. Haven’t really had the chance to ask with the extra work I’ve had to do to plan for the party today.”

“Extra work your cutlery had to do, you mean?” Asriel challenges over his shoulder as he blips his card on the machine next to the bus driver.

“Yes, yes,” Aofil admits as they follow up with their own card on the machine. “Still, been busy.”

“Busy with preparing for your role, I hope?”

Asriel finds an empty row that he sits down on. Aofil eases themselves down next to him just before the bus begins to move.

“As if I could forget,” Aofil whispers while shaking their head. “Who’s idea was it to begin with?”

“Wanna guess?” Asriel sends back along with a sly wink and a cocky smile. “It’s not who you think it is.”

“Asgore?” Aofil guesses. It’s not who they’d think it would be.

Asriel shakes his head. “Nope, not dad. Good guess though.”

“Good guess as in close, or?”

“No hints,” Asriel says before dragging his pinched fingers across his lips like a zipper. He opens it a bit as he remembers something. “Still not who you think it is,” he informs through the small opening he’s opened at the side of his mouth before closing it shut again.

“Alphys?” It has to be. Of everyone available she’s the one that’s most likely to-

“Nope,” Asriel answers through his shut lips. He opens them ajar again. “Again, not the one you think it is.”

“But if I don’t think it is them then they become the one I think it is, Asriel,” Aofil retorts with a pair of lowered eyebrows. 

Asriel zips opens his lips to say something, but he closes them again with an apologetic shrug. 

So if not Alphys, then perhaps. “Papyrus?” Aofil’s not really sure with the guess, to be honest.

The answer comes in the form of a shake of Asriel’s head.

Alright then, time for the wild card!

“Mettaton?”

Again with the shake. 

“I’m just gonna list the names until I finally get the name right, so just tell me, please.”

Asriel sighs. “Alright then, be boring. Gotta hurry up so that we don’t lose time that we can enjoy sitting on this bus.”

Aofil’s having none of that. “Not my fault that you forgot to charge your phone, prince boy,” they return over along with a pair of brows furrowed. They nod over to the front of the bus. “What if you hurt the driver’s feelings with talk like that?”

Asriel meets the eyes of the bus driver in the rear view mirror and waves an apologetic hand. The bus driver shakes her head before returning her eyes to the road where they should be.

Come to think of it, she didn’t even blink an eye or react when Asriel got on the bus. Neither did the few monsters sitting on the bus already when him and Aofil boarded. Just a monster and a human hoping on like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Perfectly ordinary, even.

And even more even with it being Asriel, apparently. Not that Aofil is gonna go around tucking at the collars of their fellow passengers and point to Asriel and ask them why they are not reacting. Tempting as it might be, they can’t really imagine it giving them anything in return.

Besides a seething look at Aofil while they destroy said collar.

“Folk seem to be as easy with you being the Prince as you are now,” Aofil voices with a bit of surprise as they run their eyes across the sporadically filled rows of the bus. “Guess that’s a good question to begin with.”

Asriel unzips his mouth. “What?”

“You’ve managed to strike a balance now with the role? At first, or at least, first when I met you, you were more reserved than a balcony table at Mettaton’s restaurant during the reveal of his new clothing collection.”

“You’re living evidence on the contrary, Aofil,” Asriel feels the need to remind. “Mom still has that recorded.”

“If I wanted to argue semantics I’d challenge a pun that Sans would do, Asriel,” Aofil feels the need to retort. One more time and they’ll tug at his ear.

“He does that?” Asriel wonders like it’s a surprise.

It being a surprise to Asriel is a surprise to Aofil. “You haven’t done that before?”

“No one else has,” Asriel defends. He shrugs, again like it’s a surprise. “Too busy groaning at the puns to challenge the semantic. Not a lot of determination left afterwards.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it,” Aofil forebodes with a careful tap on their chest. “Even with my determination I had a hard time at it. It’s not that he cares that you do, despite him voicing against me voicing being clear proof otherwise. No, it’s more that he’s arguing against bringing up the argument.”

Aofil allows Asriel a couple of seconds to digest what they just said. His brow sink, and raise, as his mouth curls into a variety of forms all the while his head tilts side to side.

“I...think...I understand,” he says reservedly through gritted teeth. 

“Anyways, yes, don’t dawdle with Sans about his puns lest you want him to flap his non existing tongue at you for hours on end.”

“So that’s how he’s become on the Surface, ey?” Asriel crosses his arms as he scoffs through a smile. “I’ve struggled to find his acclimation, but perhaps he’s become a bit more defensive about his puns now that he’s realized that they have a lingering effect rather than being erased before they could.” He scratches his chin with his finger. “Fun stuff. Remind me to write it down later, please.”

Fun? Aofil cocks their head over with brows furrowed. “Fun stuff? How do you mean with writing it down too? Do you have a spreadsheet of all the monsters and how they’ve changed?”

Asriel’s claw stops scratching his cheek. His eyes dart over to Aofil for a second before moving away in embarrassment. “Not a spreadsheet per say...”

Oh for-

Wait.

“You serious?” Aofil shoots over.

No answer.

Asriel’s cheeks are too red for him to answer.

Yup, serious.

Aofil massages their forehead with their hand as their head shakes in shared shame. “Dammit, Asriel,” they sigh out. “Everyone? Toriel? Asgore? Why?”

“It’s...it’s helped me,” he explains with a hesitant twirl of his wrist. “Had to convince myself that change was good, so I started charting it down to help me do that. Help me convince myself that things didn’t have to be in my hands for things to become better, you know? Something I took with me from Flowey, unfortunately. Rooted in his ways, so to speak.”

Oh.

Yeah, sounds like a good idea that he did.

“Forced me to interact with them as well. To put the feelings I had as Flowey behind me. Frisk was the one to force me in the beginning. I was like a plaster on them the first years. Mom, dad, yes, I was overwhelmed to be with them again, but there was a bit of hesitation to begin with. Pretty sure they could feel it as well. Frisk did everything in their power, and then some, to keep the smashed vase of a family together. But then...change.”

Aofil nods along. “Change.”

“Scary at first. It happened without me being in control of it.” Asriel flexes his hand while spinning it around. “Kinda like how I came to be Asriel again,” he says while glancing over to Aofil. “With you pretending to be Chara and all that. Don’t think I fully believed you not to be Chara even after you confessed to trying to trick me. I vaguely remember seeing a hint of Chara in Frisk as well, but that must’ve been because it was many resets ago.”

Yeah… That’s why…

“Then you took me up to the Surface and to your house and well...change.”

“Yeah.” Aofil nods along again, albeit more reservedly. “Change happened.”

“No good deed unpunished, as they say.”

“As they say.”

Asriel shakes his hand while blowing air through his lips. “First major change without my say in the matter, but in the moment I was too busy with, you know, realizing that I’m back again to notice.”

“I was there, yeah.”

“You were.”

A silence creeps up between the two. Not an uncomfortable silence, but a silence nonetheless. A break in the conversation to mellow things out before they become too deep. It’s already gotten way off topic, the discussion swerving harder than Papyrus’ car around any type of corner. Better to let it ease down than have it slam into anything expensive.

The bus makes a turn out onto the highway, picking up speed as it does. Asriel leans his head on the window after checking if his cellphone has spontaneously charged itself.

Wait a second…

“That’s a human made phone,” Aofil notices.

“Better games,” Asriel explains into the window, his jaw bouncing on the flat of his hand pushed up underneath his chin.

“Right.”

Fair enough of a reason.

Aofil checks behind them to see if the row is empty. Not only that, but almost the entire back of the bus is. Strange, considering it’s a Saturday morning. Would be at least half full, according to Aofil’s logic. It’s a direct bus to Ebott, after all. From what Aofil’s gathered the city’s been using the shadow of Ebott more as a figurative spotlight than a literal shadow, so that no one’s heading over on this fine early autumn morning is a bit of a mystery to them.

Unless…

That’s a question Aofil’s gonna have to save for when they reach Ebott.

The bus being direct to Ebott still means that it’ll take a bit, even a while, for it to reach the town. Aofil should catch some shuteye while they still can. They don’t imagine themselves getting a whole lot of sleep this weekend. Not if Asgore saying it directly to their face is anything to go by.

A full day of preparation, and then a full day of showtime. Full day’s preparation for Aofil, that is. Toriel and Asgore have probably been pulling strings and hoisting banners for the entire week now. Rest of the monsters too.

Even with lack of sleep looming over the horizon in the shape of Mt. Ebott, Aofil’s still looking forward to it all.

Gonna be tons of fun!

But first, a bit of a nap.

Just gonna lean back and...close...the...tired...eyes.

“Now arriving at Ebott.”

Aofil blinks themselves awake. Already there? They check their phone. Yeah, seems like it. At least they got some shuteye. 

“Ebott,” repeats the bus driver through the speaker system. “End station.”

Wow. These seats were a lot softer than Aofil imagined them to be. So fluffy, so…

Oh…

It’s Asriel’s shoulder.

Aofil throws their head upright! Damned be the risks of whiplash!

Did they slip down on it? They sure don’t remember falling asleep on it. Must’ve been a sharp turn that the driver did.

Yeah, must’ve been.

Let’s go with that.

“We there?” asks Asriel sleepily after a yawn that almost drains the entire bus of air, his dried up lips parting with an audible tear. Keep him busy enough to not notice Aofil hastily brushing the white fur out of their hair, which is probably for the best.

“Seems like that,” Aofil answers after making doubly sure that the only fur on their body is their own. “We were to head straight to the mountain, yes?”

“Yup.” Asriel tilts his head to his right side. He puts his hand on top of it and pushes it down carefully while breathing through his clenched teeth. “I feel like I’ve slept horribly on my left shoulder.”

Uh oh.

“You didn’t stretch properly yesterday?” Aofil asks to deflect.

Please, please, please, please, please.

“Could be.”

Phew!

“I’ll roll it out while we walk.” Asriel motions for Aofil to stand up. “Let’s go.”

He waves thanks to the bus driver as the two debark from it. 

“Don’t go elbowing any passerby now, Asriel,” Aofil asks as they take a step away from Asriel’s spinning shoulder and rotating arm. “Wouldn’t want the Prince to go around decking his people on a Saturday morning.”

“Sundays better for that?” he retorts while stepping in towards Aofil.

Aofil takes another step away. With Asriel’s arm spinning like it does it’s gonna be difficult to tug at his ear. 

The city’s just beginning to wake up. Not a lot of traffic, be it motorized, pedestrian, avian, bicycle, or whatever that one monster cartwheeling on her eight arms is doing. Again, the focus is not on Asriel, nor on Aofil. Like they’re just two ghosts of many, like that family gathering hovering towards the bakery. 

Which reminds Aofil.

“The balance I asked you about before, Asriel?” they shoot over before shrugging. “About feeling the Prince?”

Asriel’s arm stops at an awkward angle. He rolls it carefully into a more comfortable one before dragging a quick frown. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m not dreading it because of, well, actual dread.”

“That’s good.”

“And I’m not jumping for joy since it’s mostly pretty boring what I’m assigned to. I’m not a king, but a prince, in a world where the two are pretty redundant. I’m a symbol. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“A pauper prince?”

“Just your regular monster that just happens to also wear a crown when on formal dinners.”

“Like Mettaton?”

Asriel waves back to a group of monsters sitting on their porch enjoying breakfast. “Exactly.”

“If I may, by the way.” Aofil waits for Asriel to turn his head back to them from the porch.

“Hm?” he says.

“How am I seen?”

Something Aofil’s always been wondering about, but never really found the place and reason to ask. Not with everything that’s been happening all around them and all that. Now that things have calmed down enough that even Asriel is comfortable with himself, maybe then it’s good enough of a time to finally scratch that itch.

“I usually do it with my eyes,” comes an answer and a small chuckle.

“Careful with letting your Toriel side take over, Asriel,” Aofil warns with a shaking finger. They tilt their head towards him. “You might start calling me your child. You’ve already had enough close calls in school with calling me-”

“Alright!” Asriel puts his finger up to his lips. “Before you have me implode out of relapsing embarrassment.” He begins to tap his lips as he thinks. “I’m guessing how you’re seen in the context of, what the public calls, the Royals?”

“You, Frisk, Toriel, Asgore, yes,” Aofil counts while spinning their hand.

“You helped the Royals with a lot during the first ascension, you were essential in helping me come back, but then you kinda dropped of the map. Both figuratively, and-”

“Don’t say it.”

Better if he doesn’t. It’ll ruin the mood.

“Right.” Asriel drags a breath through his teeth as he continues to think. “Then...” He exhales through his lips. “Not much, really, to be honest. No statue, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be.

“Actually.” Asriel tilts his head inquisitively. “You appearing on Mettaton’s show expanded your public image more than anything that happened pre Monster City, come to think of it. Don’t think anyone actually knows it was you besides those that already knew you prior to that appearance.” 

Aofil feels...disappointed? 

Do they really? 

A little bit. Just a smidge. Not a lot, just a little bit.

“I see,” they acknowledge along with a tone and shrug that they try and make seem as nonchalant as possible, although they can themselves hear how chalant it really is.

“I’d image you’d be happy with hearing that you’ve not been in the spotlight outside of Mettaton’s show.” Asriel’s brow sinks as he cocks his head accusingly over to Aofil. “Have you done all of this for fame, Aofil?”

“No!” 

Nononononononononononononononono!

Fuck no.

Absolutely not!

“Just had to ask since your reaction wasn’t a nod and a thumbs up,” Asriel defends. “I can feel that it’s not what you actually meant, and not even with your soul. It just...”

“Yeah,” Aofil agrees with a thoughtful nod. “I’m a bit confused over my reaction as well. I’m really happy that I’m not gonna be hounded and tugged at by monsters asking me how Chara was before they fell, or how it feels to have a prince coursing through my soul. That I’m just an ordinary human with anything but ordinary friends is absolutely fine by me.” They push the flat of their hand against their chest to emphasize.

“One of which you’ll be doing your best impression of this weekend,” Asriel adds with a wink.

“How did you decide on the swapping, by the way?” Something else that’s been niggling at Aofil’s mind ever since they laid eyes on that list. “Mettaton also exclaimed that he was so happy that they had chosen me last time I met him. With ‘they’ I assume the list, right?”

“We first put all names in a pot and drew them, but Mettaton added like twenty slits of his own name, and then burst off when we began with you.”

“Began with me even though I wasn’t even asked to participate in the first place.” Aofil shakes their head. Their house is free range, and now their weekends are too! For the monster to do whatever with! 

Why do they love them so?

“MK’s idea, by the way,” Asriel informs with quick toss of his hand. “Proposed it to me last year. A wonder I put it forth to mom and dad at that time...”

Really? “MK?” Asriel scoffs a chuckle. “Did he get to make his own choice because of that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m assuming you’ve already discussed whether or not Frisk will be comfortable with this whole ordeal?” Might be a bit late for Aofil to ask that, now that they’re quite literally right below Mt. Ebott, but better late than never.

“It’s fine,” Asriel dismisses with a quick raspberry. “We have a mattress for them to land on.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“And me dismissing it this casually is plenty enough evidence that I’m absolutely sure that it’ll be fine for Frisk.”

Aofil raises their finger...but he’s right. They lower it. “Fair enough.”

Asriel steps up on his toes for second before waving over a small shed. “Speaking of the anything but ordinary friend you’re about to do an impression of.”

The two round the shed to spot MK leaning against his limo. Mettaton’s limo to be precise, but he would’ve kicked the door opened with arms wide like the circumference of the Earth if he’d been in the car. “Yooo!” MK wraps his tail around the handle of the backseat door. “Hop on in!”

“Yoooo!” Aofil answers while throwing one arm forward.

Asriel turns away violently with both his hands pressed hard against his mouth.

Aofil does their best to remain unfazed by the cackling prince bent over with his hands failing spectacularly to hold in his laughter.

Their best proves not enough for this.

“Yooooooo!” MK cheers back while his jaw hangs on a hinge. “That sounds exactly like me, Aofil! Duude! Great!”

Aofil shoves a loudly snickering Asriel through the door with a harsh shove. “I’m playing a character!” they defend with an angry huff.

“Whatever you say, fellow kid,” Asriel replies in between fits of laughter.

MK closes the door behind Aofil and seats himself in the front seat. “Get ready, punks!” he shouts over his shoulder. “You’re about to have the ride of your life! Nahahahahga!”

Aofil barely has time to fasten their safety belt before the car takes off in a hurry. It screams out of the parking lot as it accelerates to Mt. Ebott.

Oh yes.

This weekend is gonna be fantastic!


	24. Cave explorer

“Ey! The sleepyheads are here! Perfect!”

Undyne leans over her shoulder with two fingers planted inside of her mouth. She takes a deep inhale, giving Asriel, Aofil, and MK just enough time to cover their ears. 

Even with their thumbs planted way too far inside their ears than is healthy, Aofil’s are still cut deeply by Undyne’s extremely loud whistle. Their skull resonates a good second or so after Undyne’s done.

“… … ……?”

Aofil removes their thumbs.

“Are. You. Ready?” Undyne repeats while smacking her palm into her other hand with each word. “Tomorrow is gonna be sweet! I can’t wait to get started with the preparations! Ngahahaha!”

“That’s sounds very unlike Alphys,” Aofil teases. “You sure you’ve done your rehearsals?”

“And you’re not wrapping yourself around my legs with your tail begging me for an autograph,” Undyne shoots back with a wink. “Have you done yours?”

Aofil tilts their head over to MK, who just shrugs. “She’s not wrong.”

“You want me to wrap myself around your legs, Undyne?” Aofil asks with their finger towards Undyne. “Or do you want me to wrap myself around Undyne?” they ask while their finger move over to MK.

“Or!” Asriel intersects with a flamboyant twist of his wrist. “We save it for Frisk! How about that?”

Undyne waves that away with a chuckle. “We need to get into character, don’t we?”

“Which we’ll be doing after the preparations,” Asriel reminds. He waves towards the elevators at the far end of the parking cavern. “Let’s go, the Underground awaits.”

It’s really been a while since Aofil’s visited the Underground. For starters, the road up was paved, and out in the open. Signs and information for all to see and enjoy. Speed limit, angle of ascent, spaces left in the parking cavern. No need to sneak through half a jungle to get onto the old path to the plateau. Just drive up and enter through the well lit and well signed entrance carved through Mt. Ebott’s wall.

All are welcome to the Underground! 

Four lanes as well. Must be some really heavy traffic going up and down. The outskirts of Aofil’s old city isn’t as sleepily as it was when the monsters surfaced, that’s for certain. Although, looking around at this massive parking cavern, one would think as much, since there aren’t any darn cars here at all. 

Aofil drags a quick whistle, hearing its echo bounce around for what feels like a minute. They clap their palms together, and the ensuing echo has the entire empty cavern applauding vigorously.

“Big,” they state. A couple of seconds later the other side of the cavern agrees with the statement by repeating it.

“Yup,” Asriel answers. He waits for his echo to die down before cupping his hands in front of his mouth, opening it up just a little bit at his cheek. “Took a year or so for this to be built,” he informs while nodding around him. Him cupping his mouth seems to have lessened the echo. “A pretty easy first joint project between the humans and monsters. Not a lot that can go wrong with just digging a hole into a mountain that’s stood for millions of years.”

Aofil glances up at the stalactites littering the cavern ceiling. Large ones, like huge spikes just waiting for a slight rumble to knock them down.

“Considering,” Asriel adds with an exasperated sigh.

“I am,” Aofil replies. “And how do you mean by it being a joint project?”

“There was both monster and human excavation and reinforcement. A lot of pre planning was necessary for the build codes to come together between humans and monsters. Dad said that he felt that it was necessary. That we shouldn’t just go ahead with it just like that,” Asriel emphasizes with a snap of his fingers. “He had a lingering feeling it was for the best.”

Must’ve been the Above Lab rearing its ugly head. Seems it did for the better though. First time the memories actually brought with it something positive, even if it was fear. Not something Aofil would like to linger on though. Better to just change the subject.

“The cement pillars I’m guessing are human made,” Aofil hazards while patting one that they pass. After having to wait for a good while for their echo to die down, they also cup their hands over their mouth. Hearing themselves with a slight delay is messing with their head as they try to speak. “We humans do love our cement.”

“Yes, and no,” Asriel answers while shrugging lightly. Aofil can see his lips contract just the tiniest too. “The cement is human, yes, but the reinforcement is magical. Cement, from what I understand, doesn’t really do well with being this high on its own. Needs to be reinforced lest if collapses in on itself, or something.”

Aofil has to be careful not to fall over backwards as they lean back to estimate the height of the pillar. 

They estimate it to be somewhere between very and unbelievably tall.

More or less.

Might even be as tall as to tickle the top of the mountain from inside.

“Exactly,” Asriel comments as Aofil bends their neck back down while massaging it. He taps his claw against the edge of one of the pillars before cupping his mouth again. “You know how triangles are the strongest shape, Aofil?”

“Yeah...” Aofil nods once. “I taught you that.”

Undyne and MK share a joint and subtle chuckle that turns less subtle as it bounces around the humongous cavern like giggling popcorn. Asriel shoots over a raised eyebrow, which Undyne counters by waving it away while blowing her lips.

The echo reminds Aofil of a runaway motor. 

“Anyways,” Asriel continues. “Inside the pillars are magical reinforcements made of obsidian created with the help of Vulkins in the shape of triangles. Like the big building cranes, you know?”

Aofil knows.

“Don’t know how much dad had to argue with the engineers to convince them that it would be safe. Maybe he didn’t have to and it’s stronger than what you humans use normally.” Asriel shrugs one shoulder. “I wouldn’t know. I do know that it had the contractors a bit confused to have a Vulkin following them as they prepared the cement. After a week or so it mellowed out though, and progress really stepped up.”

“How did the monsters help with the excavation?” Undyne wonders. “I know I wasn’t invited to hollow out the mountain by punching it. Don’t tell me that you employed Aaron’s instead, Az.”

“We did, but not for the excavation. That I think was mostly humans, but with the help of the minerals from the Crystal Cavern.” Asriel slices a figure through the air. “Cut through the rock like hot butter, is what I heard. Some of it was used to fill out the cement too.”

“Seems to be holding,” Aofil adds while kicking the pillar with the side of their foot. 

Doesn’t fall.

Safe enough.

“It’s more the mortal stabbing by the spikes hanging from the roof that has me worried though,” Aofil feels that they have to voice, even if it’s muffled to not produce interrupting echo. “I know I’d be pissed if I came back from a day at MTT Hotel and found a large rocky cone taking up the passenger seat with the bodywork being bent like aluminum foil.”

“You’d be pissed coming back from a day at MTT Hotel, period!” Undyne shouts over. The cupping technique doesn’t really work for yells, the party finds out swiftly. 

As if Undyne would be annoyed at hearing more voices, even if it is just hers, talk smack about Mettaton.

She’s not, and her ensuing guffaw has the entire cavern roaring in laughter.

It takes a small while before she catches the looks of Aofil and Asriel. She shrugs. “What?”

The two glance in unison down at MK.

Undyne turns her head over to see MK’s brow lowered in deep thought.

“Oh...” falls out of her mouth. “I-I mean-” She cups her hands. “I mean, he’s… Mettaton is… a total waste of metal and magic.”

Asriel throws his arms up in annoyance. “MK’s right there, Undyne!” he chastises with a sigh. His annoyed spout has the cavern shaking to its foundation.

The pillars are still standing though.

Very important.

“I just...” Undyne clasps her hands together as if begging. “I’m sorry.” Her echo repeats her statement. “I can’t… Mettaton is just such a-”

“Rusted mess of nuts and bolts!” MK interrupts with hearty vigor. “Ngahahahahaha!” His echo joins in as he turns his head excitingly between his friends as his smile almost tears his cheeks apart. “Right?”

“Um...” Asriel’s not sure what to say. “Ok?”

MK’s smile fades into a perplexed frown, summoning countless furrowed wrinkles on his forehead. “Yooo! Dudes! I know that M is a total jerk, alright?” he asks while tilting his head forward as if he’s repeating what everyone should know by this point. “Thing is-” He puts the end of his tail over his mouth to contain his echo. “Thing is though, he pays really freaking well. You think he’d let the humans think that he’s gonna cheap out on his brand? I mean, he does, but only behind the scenes. I’m literally his driving force, so I’m front stage center, right in the spotlight.”

Asriel grumbles underneath his voice. Cursing himself not to have gotten his driving license earlier.

“I’m fine, dudes,” MK assures with a quick nod. “I’m the one hustling him. Don’t tell him that I told you though!”

Undyne scoffs a snorty laugh. “As if I would ever!”

“There’s that Alphys!” Aofil cheers to Undyne’s laugh, causing her to blush a red brighter than her hair. She drags her finger across her throat while flashing her teeth in response, but Aofil just blows a raspberry back in return. “As if you would ever lay a finger on a human that you’re trying to whip into shape.”

Had the pillar next to Undyne not been load bearing she’d thrown her fist through it.

Mission accomplished, according to Aofil. Now. “Anything else about the details of the construction of the parking lot that you apparently know, Asriel?”

Asriel’s not sure how to take that. “I know it because it’s gonna be my responsibility when dad passes the crown over to me. So yeah, I have a slight interest, so to speak.” He snaps a finger towards the lines denoting a parking space. “These are made with magic too. Knows when there’s a vehicle parked, and sends the information to the central database. It can sense if it’s a human or a monster too, which we’re trying to keep somewhat equal. As many human visitors as monster visitors is the goal, a good sign that enough monsters have embraced the Surface, and enough people have taken interest in the Underground. Dad has named it ‘Soul Equivalence’, although I’m pretty sure it was mom that came up with it.”

“What was it last month?” Undyne wonders over her shoulder as she throws her fist against the elevator pad to summon one. It lights up, signaling that one is on its the way. It doesn’t moan in pain or swear in anger from Undyne’s punch, which is probably for the best.

Aofil has had the most exposure to the monsters and even they are hesitant towards their everyday electronics giving them sass. Your everyday human tourist might be a bit put off by the elevator asking them what’s on today’s agenda and then giving traveling advice.

Although, come to think about it, it might not be too bad. Would certainly liven up the elevator ride better than the music.

Although although, socializing in an elevator?

Asriel tilts his hand side to side while inhaling through his clenched teeth. “Seventy to thirty when it comes to monsters to humans. Still got a ways to go, yes, but it’s closing in. Slow and steady, just how we want it.”

“Sounds good,” comments Aofil while letting their eyes wander the cavern again. It’s less filled with Mettaton commercials than they’d imagined it to be. Perhaps he’s busy enough littering the entirety of the Surface with his image.

Aofil would call him the ideal of monsters resurfacing had they not known everything else about him.

“Parking cavern,” informs the elevator as it opens up. “Welcome to the Underground, dear darlings.”

And speaking of Mettaton.

“How much did he ask for the use of his voice?” wonders Aofil as they shimmy in after MK into the brightly lit elevator. Less gaudy pink than they imagined it to be, though. Quite reserved, considering all the shapes and colors it could be. It looks just like a normal human sized one.

“I’d rather not say,” Asriel answers as he pushes the button labeled ‘New Home Ground Floor’.

“Numbers aren’t really Asgore’ cup of tea, ey?” Aofil snickers as they skim the rest of the surprisingly detailed, and less surprisingly, dry named buttons. “I’m assuming he’s the one that named them.”

“I think they’re fine,” voices MK with a shrug. “Tells you exactly where you’re going. I’d rather have that then guess where two and three is gonna take me.”

“Usually there’s a plaque or something similar with the description of each floor instead of the description being on the button,” Aofil explains. “At least for every elevator I’ve used before. If I’m not mistaken then the elevators in Hotland have a compact naming scheme.”

“Wasn’t dad that named them.” Asriel tilts his head over. “Simplest explanation.”

“Is it weird that I got lost in that elevator system once?” MK wonders with an embarrassed scoff. “I… I kinda wanted to go see R1 and R2 and ask them if they could take me to you, Undyne. I ended up on the vents for like an hour or so before I could find the right elevator.”

The elevator continues to move. It’s not that it moves slowly. Quite the opposite. Aofil can feel the bottom of their jeans hover from the speed. No idea to estimate from the sign above the doors denoting the floor. Before Aofil has time to fully read the floor it’s off to the next one.

Much smoother ride than the previous rides they had into the Underground. 

Motorized wheelbarrow carrying Alphys and almost dying the first time.

Falling down and almost dying the second time.

Dressing up as Chara and almost dying the third time.

Fourth time’s the charm, then.

Hopefully.

All they have to do is pretend to be MK. Shouldn’t be something that would bring with it mortal danger.

Again, hopefully.

Damn…

Thinking back on the first time, second, third. Disregarding all the almost fatal outcomes, however possible that is.

No, what suddenly hit Aofil, was their subtle tilt down of their neck as they thought back. Of when Frisk was a kid… 

The kid Aofil could carry on their shoulders. They’re an adult now! The little kiddo that saved the monsters is an adult now. Aofil’s always known that they were gone a long time, they always realized that, but putting it into context now. 

Just, strange…

Aofil is gonna prepare the eighteenth birthday of Frisk. They’re gonna star in it too.

Damn, it’s only hitting Aofil now how much that actually means. 

And MK too! He’s up to Aofil’s length now!

That evening all those years ago when Aofil played Asgore, and MK played Undyne.

Wow… 

Aofil scoffs as they wipe their eyes of moisture.

Wow, indeed.

“It’s funny,” Asriel says as he crosses his arms. “I don’t think I’ve actually come to terms with Frisk becoming an adult, to be honest.”

Heh…

So Aofil’s not the only one.

“Bit late to bring that up, Prince boy,” Undyne chuckles out while squeezing Asriel’s shoulder. “Have to admit though, I feel the same. It feels like just yesterday that I had my thoughts flooded with battle lust. To deliver a human soul to Asgore so that he can deliver us to freedom, and revenge upon the humans!”

She retracts her hand and closes it while meeting herself in the wall mirror. “Now though?” She chuckles again, widening her smile in an attempt to intimidate her reflection. “Now I’m doing my best.” She tilts her head over towards Aofil as her smile drains. “Some might call it fruitless, me included, but now I do my best to help the humans become stronger.”

Aofil flexes their arm.

Undyne shakes her head.

“Not even a damn seed, Aof.”

“Maybe you should do better then, Undyne?” they retort with a wink.

“I’m a monster. I only have so much determination!”

Aofil scoffs. “That’s your excuse for everything.”

“No!” Undyne shoots back with a raised finger. “That’s my explanation, not my excuse.”

“Semantics.”

“No.”

“Anyways,” interrupts Asriel with an exasperated blow through his lips. “As I was trying to say, Frisk being an adult sounds a bit weird in my ears. Me being one is fine, but Frisk? They’ve always acted like one, at least around me.”

“Maybe them reaching the point now makes you realize how much they’ve stretched themselves for it all these years?”

Three heads of varying skin, fur, and scales, turn towards MK.

“What?” he spills. “M’s ghost writers do their last drafting in the limo. I’ve heard a lot of profound things.”

Ghost writer? “Isn’t he one?” Aofil asks while looking to both Undyne and Asriel. “Could’ve sworn...”

Asriel nods. “Yeah, he is. Alphys will be dressing up as his robotic form though. It’s the one Frisk saw during their travels.”

“Gonna be interesting to see how she’ll manage getting her arms and legs blown off.”

Two scaly heads, one with fur, turn towards Aofil.

“What? It’s what happened, right?” they defend.

“You sounded very excited about it,” Asriel counters. “Something you want to share?”

“I’m assuming that you’ve thought about everything already,” Aofil retorts while tapping their skull with a finger. “I’m supposed to hang of a cliff edge without any arms, and you don’t see me quaking at the knees. Alright, I trust that you have planned a safety net or something.”

“Oh yeah...” Undyne rubs her chin as her eyes narrow in thought. “That happened...”

Aofil points a very stern finger over to Undyne. “Don’t fucking do this to me now, Undyne.” They shake it to emphasize. “You absolutely know about it. You were there.”

She returns a sinister grin along with a pair of very bouncy eyebrows.

“How would Dr. Alphys turn into a ghost, by the way?” wonders MK while his head cocks to the side. “Or would she just use Radentim?”

Aofil hazards “Probably Radentim. Don’t think she’d be so uppity about turning into a ghost. Maybe not as not uppity as Frisk or I would, since human ghosts are...dead, but still.” 

“Her turning into a ghost and possessing the Mew Mew doll later wouldn’t be...bad.”

Again three heads of skin, fur, and scales, turn around as if mounted on shoulders of rugged stone, but this time over to Undyne, who’s eye widen in realization. The one underneath her eye patch almost peeks itself visible.

“Did I say that out loud?”

Aofil nods. “You did.”

The elevator stops, shortly followed by a loud ding, opening the doors.

“Have a marvelous stay at the Underground, darlings!” Mettaton’s voice shouts through the speakers, prompting Undyne to wrap her arms around the her fellow elevator passengers, dragging them along with her as she charges out of the elevator.

After pushing the trio far enough away to not have a chance to interrupt her, Undyne then wheels around and slams her open palm onto the floor panel. The elevator door closes with haste, and she turns back around to the stumbling mess of skin, fur, and scales. “That topic is now going up and away from us so we’re no longer gonna talk about it!”

She dusts off her hands off any mention of whatever it might be that she said. Who knows? Not here! Nor, MK, Aofil, or Asriel!

Not anyone at all!

“Not a single hearing in vicinity!”

“I heard.”

Undyne’s face sinks into a horrified expression. 

“I’ve always known about you and Dr. Alphys’…interest in things anime, Undy sweetie.”

She turns her head around. Eyes glaring at the elevator.

The numbers on the display stop, morphing into the visage of Mettaton. He smiles as he looks down. “But oh my, Undy. Take pride in being one of the few monsters that can actually surprise me.”

Why the hell is Mettaton an elevator?

“I can tell by the looks on your faces that the good doctor forgot to tell you that I was on elevator duty this morning to make sure no one else reached the Underground.” The doors of a neighbor elevator open up, revealing Mettaton striking a pose. He rolls out with his arms stretched wide. “I’ll inform the rest that you darling have arrived.”

He leans in towards Undyne, ignoring completely the crackling spear violently forming in her hand. “Give me a call later about Mew Mew,” he whispers loudly enough to make sure that the others hear. “I might be able to help the two of you out.”

Undyne doesn’t strike.

Now that’s very interesting.

With swagger and confidence he saunters over to MK, Asriel, and Aofil, fully aware that he now has Undyne in the palm of his hand. “I’m sure you have a few question about the CORE.”

Not...really. “No,” Aofil answers.

“Oh!” Mettaton quells a chuckle. “Then you haven’t turned around.”

Been difficult to with the whole scene that’s just happened, but fair enough. Aofil can turn...around…

What the...

“Perfect!” Mettaton cheers as he puts an arm around Aofil’s stunned neck. “Now you have questions.”


	25. Narrow streets of cobblestone

“Cake?”

“Very observant of you, Aofil.”

They can’t believe their eyes…

They refuse to!

“The entire CORE? Covered in cake?”

“You’re repeating yourself, sweetie.”

“How is it not falling apart?”

“You’re questioning your spider spouse’s baking, Aof dear?” Mettaton extends his arm behind Aofil’s neck, chafing it with the seams of his extending metallic segments. “You of all humans not assuming magic to begin with?”

“My what?” Aofil’s eyes open up as they realize. “Oh… Muffet!”

“So how are you planning for the webbing, I mean wedding?”

Aofil cocks their head over to Mettaton, his large boxy panels lighting up in the shape of a heart. “We’re not.” They lift up Mettaton’s arm from their shoulder and hands it back to him. “We’re not even dating.”

“Oh but sure you are-”

“No, we’re not.”

“But, Aofy deary,” pleads Mettaton through a voice that’s as meticulously constructed as his body is. “I’ve come up with such wonderful designs that would complement the two of you so perfectly.” He swipes his hand up and down Aofil’s body before twirling his fingers into a fist shivering with excitement. “You would look so great taking Muffet as your loving wife, her standing there next to you in a dress made out of silk smoother than what she could ever produce herself.”

Mettaton leans in towards Aofil with his hand placed like a napkin to cover a table on next to his face panel. Aofil leans back as much as he leans in. “If you could ever believe it.”

“I-”

“The dark purple, contrasting with the fair magenta of her skin, the dark of her dress representing the Underground of her birth, and the fair of her skin representing the Surface that she is living now. The duality of her soul, which she’s to give to you.”

Mettaton clenches his fist at his chest, or where it would be if he had one. “I call it.” He swipes the air in front of him, like he’s drawing a rainbow.

“Soul dichromatism,” Mettaton reveals with pride.

Doesn’t sound to bad, to be honest. Quite good, actually.

Mettaton nods at Aofil’s impressed shrug. “It’s very high quality and incredibly popular.”

“I’ve no doubt about that.”

Surprisingly sincere, Aofil catches themselves to be. For a good reason though.

It’s a damn good name.

Aofil would buy that for a handful of G.

“Strands expertly weaved gleaming like a million precious gemstone as she squirms in excitement of her new life,” Mettaton continues after a quick squat and lean into Aofil. “The fabric follows her form like static with each minute movement she does. Her being the absolute positive, of course. You notice the subtle texture reminiscent of Hotland’s lava, as the light reflects as she moves the lava flows up her curves, caressing her every part as if gently massaging. Her many arms covered in ribbons cut from her dress, woven with spider web pattern to hold them together lest they fall off. Although, you would like that, wouldn’t you, Aofy deary?”

Aofil glances over to the rest of their friends barely holding together as they fight to keep their laughter contained.

Aofil’s not gonna get any help from them anytime soon.

“Her shoulders and collar exposed,” Mettaton continues as he drags Aofil closer to him. “Of her dress, yes, but not of her necklace that cuddles her upper torso and neck. Strings of wonder, transparent like those of her own making, holding, with strength like hers would have, a large and beautifully cut stone in the shape of the Delta Rune. A new collection, with the help of humans, from the Crystal Cavern. Hand, claw, and pincer picked by the best and most trustworthy of gemenologists.”

“I don’t think that’s a real-”

“Complementing her eyes as she stares longingly into yours, Aofil!” Mettaton exhales wishfully. He turns his head, letting out an exasperated sigh as he places the back of his hand up against his forehead. Foreface. Forebox. Foretop-of-the-front-of-his-shape. What drama!

Melodrama, that is.

“Her eyelashes swaying like wheat during a summer’s warm and comforting breeze as she blinks with fluster. Oh, how you’re able to stand up with the hurricane of a fanning she does as she blinks is something we’ll ever know, Aofil!”

And there it is.

“Each emphasized breath she takes, lifting up her necklace shaped like the symbol of the monster royalty, pulsating red, like your soul, which you’re about to promise her.”

The things, all the things that Mettaton’s describing.

Doesn’t sound too bad, actually. Not to Aofil’s ears. 

Wait...

They shakes their head harshly.

Dammit! That’s what Mettaton’s trying to wriggle out of them! 

Just enjoy the imagery, nothing else.

“One of her hands comes up timidly, brushing away a small part of hair behind her ear. Her pigtails, held together by stripes of magical cloth that sway even when there’s no wind. She giggles, her exposed downward fangs pushing bashfully against her chin, pushing her skin in every so slightly. Like dimples, but on her chin.”

Quite the imagery to enjoy, Aofil’s not gonna lie about that.

“A question has her freezing, shyly startled, as it were, even though the question wasn’t addressed to her.” Mettaton turns his head back towards Aofil, the heart shape on his panels now beaming like stars. But to you, Aofil.”

Is that so?

“You whisper that you do, that you accept her to be your soul mate.”

Oh for…

Soul mate?

Really?

“Her slim lips parting into a faithful smile, again glistening from the new MTT Lip Care collection, inspired by the glistening from the snow in Snowdin. Where I’ve opened up a new ski resort. Do come visit, Aofil.”

“Maybe.”

“The same question is asked to her, if she would take you to be her loving-”

“Quick question, Met. Can I call you Met?”

A light shuts off for just a second on Mettaton’s face before relighting.

Perfect.

Met it is!

“How much have you based the future of your collection on the relationship between Muffet and I? Pray tell,” Aofil pries with a plastered smile. “I’m awfully curious.”

“I figured you’d be,” Mettaton answers with a quick snap of his fingers, a fountain pen shooting out of his finger as he does.

Aofil pushes it back and also smacks close Mettaton’s stomach flap with their other hand before it has time to open. “We’re celebrating Frisk this weekend now, Met.” They close shut Mettaton’s finger with a click. “Keep that in mind, please.”

They beckon for the snickering group of really helpful friends to follow them as Aofil heads through the seemingly abandoned city of New Home.

“But how could I when I have these wonderful designs to discuss with you?” Mettaton asks in a fabricated panic as he hurries along afterwards.

“There’s no discussing with you, Met,” Aofil scoffs over their shoulder. “And I’m not in the mood to sign any contracts.”

“Muffet said she’d sign if you did,” Mettaton teases as his face panels light up.

Oh that’s gonna backfire immediately. “Then I guess that she’s not gonna sign either.” Walked right into that one, Mettaton! Or rolled, if you want to be technical about it.

“Nice!” cheers Undyne with a hard pat on Aofil’s back. “Stand your ground against this rolling roomba, Aofil! Don’t let him poison your mind.”

“Didn’t M just say something about Alphys and Mew Me-” is all MK manages to get out of him before Undyne wraps her arm around his neck and mouth, muffling his voice.

“Don’t want no echo!” she defends with a shout. Her quick and overly eager smile betrays her intentions though, as well as the ensuing echo from her shout.

The buildings of which the echo bounce from are quite gray. More gray than what Aofil could see from that bridge connecting to Asgore’s house last time they went through the Underground. While the architecture reminds them of being human, there are some oddities that betray the fact that they’re monster built.

For instance, the differently shaped methods of ingress. Doors, some round, some square, some isosceles, for some strange reason. Varying in sizes, from Aofil’s foot not being able to fit in a million years, to them being able to slink underneath the gap between the door’s bottom and the frame no problem.

Not standing upright, of course, but crawling under.

The former would be absurd.

And yes, absurd.

Even with Aofil’s experience.

The emptiness of it all too. Deafening silence, with only the different sounding footsteps and Mettaton’s wheel to occupy the ears. There’s evidence of the street the group are walking, and rolling, on being quite busy any other normal day, even if it’s recently been cleaned thoroughly. The cobblestone road has grooves on either side.

Not for waste like the old human cobblestone streets, but grooves made from weight. Worn from usage.

“It’s pretty empty here,” Aofil voices, it traveling around many corners before dying down. It’s like they’re talking inside a tin can. “But there lived many monsters here before, correct?”

“Many have moved to the Surface by now,” Asriel explains while pointing his thumb up. “We built a city there, remember? You should, Aof, since you live in it.”

Snark isn’t a favorable trait from a prince. Less so from a pupil to a teacher. 

Is Aofil that petty?

Maybe, depends on what Asriel says next.

“We do have history of abandoning Underground cities,” Undyne adds while throwing her thumb behind her shoulder. “The Ruins wasn’t always The Ruins, y’know? Was home to us before we moved to New Home, or Gray Galore, as it was also knows as.”

An electronic sigh whisks its way around the group.

They all turn to Mettaton.

“Gray Galore...” he repeats to himself. “Even after all my effort to bring some color back to the monsters, it’s still remembered as such.”

Aofil looks to the non robotic monsters for explanation, but they all shrug their shoulders, with brows furrowed just as perplexed as theirs are. Even MK has his furrowed like two malfunctioning awnings.

“So all along you had a noble cause to your pink extravaganza, Mettaton?” Aofil pries curiously, yet still hesitantly. It smells too much like one of his schemes for Aofil to be sympathetic at the current moment.

“The Underground was a pretty gray place as I grew up,” Mettaton begins as he spins slowly on his wheel with his arm extended.

“Waterfall is pretty blue,” Undyne retorts with a snicker. “Hotland’s pretty red. Snowdin is white. The Ruins is purple. I can go on, and I probably should, but-”

“Mew Mew, Undy.”

Undyne’s mouth clamps shut.

Aofil can only stare in bewilderment. They know that Alphys and Undyne enjoy Mew Mew, Aofil does as well, but to this extent? 

And Undyne of all people clamping shut in the presence of Mettaton is unheard of, unimaginable to Aofil.

But this is no loud imagination.

It’s muted reality.

“The Underground, especially after the death of Chara, was a very gray place. Dark gray, as close as you can until it turns black,” Mettaton continues as he rolls up to a nearby building which he puts his hand on. “I wanted to give some color back to the monsters life. Something that wasn’t the bright lights of the human souls. Something from us monsters that we could laugh at, awe at, inspire at, feel as if all of our hearts were beating as one.”

“That was my thing,” Undyne mumbles underneath her breath as her wrist begins twisting.

“It was mere a coincidence befit to be called magical that I met Alphee all those wonderful years ago. As if I could ever have done what I did without her help. Her magic and-”

Mettaton crashes hard against the wall as MK wheels his tail around to hit him in the back of his head.

“You better now, M?”

Small pieces off wall fall from Mettaton’s box form as he pulls his face out of the wall. The indentation is almost a perfect mirroring of him, and he studies it inquisitively before nodding to himself. “I’ll send the tenants a cease and desist letter for improper use of my likeness once Frisk’s birthday is over.”

MK drags some sweat off his forehead with his tail.

Guess it means that all of that before was just a malfunction. Or maybe the truth managed to slink out of Mettaton.

Either way, should probably get moving again.

“Anything that’s happened here that’s been collaborated between humans and monsters, Asriel?” Aofil asks over the heads of Undyne and MK. “How deep does the human influence go, so to speak?”

“Certainly gonna be some fantastic clothing and jewelry if you’d sign the contract, my sweetie human,” allures Mettaton with a voice that worms itself inside Aofil.

Just ignore him.

Just ignore him…

“The CORE has been modified with the help of some human engineers to produce normal electricity as well as magical electricity. The matter of efficiency is still being worked on, but it’s making progress. I’m not gonna pretend to know enough to go into detail, because some of those equations that the engineers drew on that whiteboard during their presentation looked more like a short story than math.”

Asriel blows his lips as his eyes focus on a distant horizon filled with variables and integrals.

“You say that you humans don’t know magic, but what those engineers wrote...” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Gonna have something else more powerful than determination to understand.”

“I’m sure Alphys would have no problem with that!” cheers Undyne. “She’s the smartest there is!”

“She has some fingers in the conversion, yes,” informs Asriel with an open hand before morphing it into a two fingered point right at an empty intersection. It bears a striking semblance to one in the eldest part of Aofil’s old town. The sewer hubs have the Delta Rune carved into it rather than Mt. Ebott though, which might be enough to circumvent copyright.

Or not.

They’ll have to ask their mom about it later.

“How many fingers?” pries Undyne.

“Two.”

“And what does that mean?” wonders MK.

Asriel shrugs. “I don’t know. I feel like it’s more than one finger though considering her involvement.”

Fair enough.

The group makes another right at a small marketplace. Seems to be selling spices of sorts. Sure smells like it. Not a lot that Aofil recognizes though, perhaps they’re monster spices.

“Smells good, right Aof?” comments Undyne with a friendly nudge at Aofil side, causing them to snort as they were sampling the air.

Aofil pushes back on Undyne’s shoulder as she starts grinning. “If you’d let me smell in peace, yeah.”

“It’s usually fully packed here with both private and business interest,” explains Asriel while motioning his arm across the marketplace. “Hybrid recipes are getting really popular. The vast variety of Surface ingredients combined with the Underground’s spices. Mom’s been experimenting a lot herself, for better...and worse.”

“Snails?” Aofil guesses.

“Snails,” Asriel answers. “She’s getting a bit too brave with the combinations, even for my taste.”

“Can’t imagine Frisk’s.”

“Trials never end for them, do they?”

“You’re not doing them any favor with all the homework you’re piling on, Aofil.”

Oh for…

“I’m very fair in my amount of homework, Asriel,” Aofil retorts a bit too harshly than they wanted. No, actually. No, it’s just as harshly as they wanted it to be. They are very fair with their given homework. It’s to prepare them for university studies. And if not, then for the work life. 

Asriel, Frisk, MK, all of them should be thanking Aofil for their fairness akin to the color of their skin.

The fairest there is!

“Why are you waving your arm like you’ve conducting, Aofil?”

Were they?

Aofil glances up at their arm raised high in pride and finger erected even prouder. Their head turns to Undyne with her perplexed hand and narrowed eye towards Aofil’s hand. Aofil lowers their hand to their mouth, which they cough once into.

“Just stretching.”

“...Alright.”

Undyne shakes her head while blowing her lips.

“Where are we heading, by the way?” MK voices.

Good question, actually. Aofil has no idea. They’ve never been in New Home, and the signage tells them less than nothing about their location except that they’re down in the Underground. The constant gray is starting to get to them, even with MTT Hotel looming somewhere in the distance, lit up as always.

Alright, so maybe Aofil has a sliver of a clue where they are, but not enough to deduce where exactly the group is heading.

“The Lab.”

Guess the group’s heading to-

Wait…

“The Lab?” Aofil repeats as a baffled question. “Wasn’t that shut down?”

“I pushed the button that filled the lower part with cement myself, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Asriel explains with a slow twirl of his wrist. “We’re gonna have it as our base of operations, with all the cameras to monitor Frisk’s progress.”

“The more things change the more they stay the same, ey?” Aofil replies with a slight tilt of their head.

“You could put it like that if you want to, yes. I’d rather think of it as us wanting to make sure it goes as smoothly as possible for Frisk,” Asriel sends back with a smile and a nod. “Shows how much we’ve put it all behind us too, don’t you think?”

He’s got a point there. Of all people to get over True Lab, Asriel is a good indication that it’s behind the rest too. 

Other one being Alphys, Aofil supposes. 

What Aofil did when they asked her to test their curse might’ve set her back a bit, but with friends and family around her, maybe she’s gotten over it too.

Frisk is a pretty good motivator in the eyes of the monsters, so maybe this birthday is as much for the monsters as it is for Frisk.

Aofil’s fine with that.

Anything to help move forward is always appreciated. 

And hey, they get to see Toriel take a crack at acting as them, which is gonna be all kinds of hilarious.

Hopefully she wears a helmet.

Not far along afterwards, the familiar red glow of Hotland begins to peek from behind the gray houses. Careful winds of warm air start circulating, bringing a comforting breeze that has Aofil opening their sweatshirt. Not many steps left until they have to take it off completely and curse themselves for putting on pants.

As the elevator hums, which is not speaking, much to the delight of everyone using it, with the slight exception of Mettaton, the heat increases. Aofil worms their arms out of their sweatshirt, and fold it up over their shoulder. 

“You brought some water, Undyne?” they ask as they see sweat begin to pour down her forehead. “Don’t want you fainting.”

“I’ve gotten used to being dry with the sun shining upon me for years now, Aof,” she replies with an eager grin diverting the streams of sweat to her cheeks. “I can probably take a swim in the lava if I wanted to.”

That’s a complete and utter lie.

But Aofil gets the gist of it.

The elevator doors open to reveal the blazing red and orange glow of Hotland casting long shadows on the cavern roof. The lava flowing like, well…, lava. Slow and steady, like thick cake batter.

And speaking of that…

The CORE, in all its glazed glory, standing proud and tall.

Covered completely in cake.

Must’ve been cooked by the warmth of Hotland.

Muffet’s been busy. She must’ve taken with her all of the spiders in the entire country to help her finish this. Would also explain why there was such an influx of mosquitoes the week Aofil took care of Muffin. 

Well, not really an influx for Aofil per say since Muffin ate them all with vigor and loud burps.

But for others.

“Ah, there you are!” greets Alphys with a welcoming smile and wave. “Undyne, could you help me with some boxes, please?” She motions over to a large amount of boxes with an embarrassed claw. “T-the costumes and props.”

Undyne’s face lights up brighter than the hottest part of Hotland. “Ngahahaha! Awesome! Asriel, give me a hand here, we’ll get these done in no time!”

The ceiling high stack of boxes is swiftly dismantled as Asriel and Undyne take turns loading each other’s arms. MK helps stabilize the leaning towers of carrying with some of his conjured magic as Undyne and Asriel carefully bend themselves over to get their piles out the opposite door to a blue-hooded figure singing to itself.

“I have to return to my elevating position,” Mettaton says as he puts a hand on Aofil’s shoulder. He begins to slowly turn it towards the escalator to the second floor. “Head upstairs and help out a bit, would you?”

He winks with a panel on his face before rolling back out to Hotland with a satisfied whistle.

Well, the boxes seem to have enough people on it, with Alphys doing inventory at the end, and the rest carrying them over.

Might as well head upstairs then. Maybe Toriel or Asgore are in need of assistance.

“Ahuhuhuhu~” comes a pleased giggle as Aofil reaches halfway up the escalator.

That’s not Toriel nor Asgore.

It’s…

…

“Wow...”

Muffet turns her head over her shoulder, the large bell in her pigtail rattling as she does.

“I can’t say I expected you here, Muffet,” Aofil feels the need to say. “Especially not like...”

Muffet sways her pink frilly dress back and forth as she tugs a flustered smile. “Like Mew Mew?” A feline tail peeks over her shoulder in the shape of a question mark, mirroring Aofil’s posture. “Fuhuhuhuhu~”

“I can’t recall Frisk telling me that they ran into a Mew Mew monster,” Aofil says out loud, albeit quieter than how they think of it. “Although, it was some years ago.”

Still plenty audible for Muffet though, who taps a replica of Mew Mew’s wand in her palm as she cocks her head thoughtfully. “From what I understood, the King and Queen found a possessed Mew Mew doll which was in hiding in Snowdin. Don’t know how Frisk missed it, to be honest, it was quite loud and bombastic. Was just recently when they found it.”

“And you’re wearing the costume it had?” Aofil asks with an eye narrowed with the opposite brow raised.

Muffet twirls around with her hands on the edges of the dress. “They said it would fit me, just had to cut out a few more holes for my hands, ahuhu~”

Fair enough. It’s not out of order for the rest of the swaps planned, so why not?

“Gonna be fun to see what you do, Muffet,” Aofil offers with a smile. Genuinely so, to boot.

Muffet’s tail whips downwards as she looks to the side. “Aofil, what do you think-”

“Yoo!” is shouted from downstairs.

“That’s my line, Undyne!” Aofil shouts back. “Give it more Alphys!”

An even louder exasperated snort is sent back up.

“There we go!” Aofil cheers. “Good acting!”

“No, that was Alphys Alphys!” Undyne replies.

A wave of embarrassment, hotter than anything Hotland could ever produce, oozes up the escalator. 

Yup, it was Alphys Alphys.

“Anyways, come down now, we’re gonna start with the planning!”

Aofil throws their thumb up without thinking that Undyne has no way of seeing it. “We’re on our way!”

They return their attention to Muffet. “You were saying?”

“Oh...” Muffet shakes her head. “Nothing, ahuhu~ I’ll just switch out of my costume and then I’ll be down there.”

Aofil nods. “Alright, good.” They step onto the downwards escalator.

“Yeah...good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You cannot prove that I didn't plan for Muffet to be Mew Mew regarding the Switch battle having a remix of Spider Dance.


	26. More invited

“If everyone could please take their seats.”

A myriad of various squeaks fill the large main room of the Lab as bodies of various weights seat themselves on the two rows of chairs in front of the large projector cloth being slowly lowered behind Toriel.

She smiles as her audience gets into position. “Everyone comfortable?”

“Psst, Aof,” whispers Undyne none too subtly as she taps Aofil on their shoulder. Aofil tilts their head over. “Toriel’s really getting into the role of you by asking obvious questions.”

She snickers, pleased with herself.

Toriel clears her throat loudly, her eyes peering hard on Undyne, forcing her to cower in her chair.

“That too,” Aofil whispers back.

They snicker, pleased with themselves.

“Tomorrow we’ll be celebrating the eighteenth birthday of Frisk, and first of I would like to thank you all for participating. A special thanks goes to MK for suggesting the idea!” Toriel tucks her pointer stick underneath her arm to free her hands up for applauding MK.

The large room is quickly filled with a symphony of differently sounding claps as the two rows of chairs join Toriel in applauding MK. Skin, scale, fur, metal, bone, all thanking MK for his wonderful idea!

His cheeks light bright red as his tail bends underneath his chair. “I...I just thought it was a good idea,” he says through an embarrassed laugh.

“Just like you,” Aofil whispers to Undyne. Although, Alphys would probably be closer. Undyne reacts with a scowl though, which was all Aofil wanted out of their comment.

“It is a wonderful idea, MK,” Toriel assures with a warm smile. “Asgore, Asriel, and I couldn’t be happier that you put forth the idea. Right, boys?”

Asgore and Asriel nod, exactly the same. It brings a chuckle to Aofil how similar their sheepish nodding are as they agree with Toriel immediately without having time to think.

“It’ll be a lifetime memory for all of us, but especially for Frisk. So from the bottom of our souls.” Toriel takes a deep bow. “Thank you, MK.”

Asriel and Asgore scramble out of their chairs and bow the same to MK.

Wow, Toriel can work the two of them like a pair of yo-yos. 

MK looks quite confused being surrounded on both flanks by the King and the Prince bowing deeply.

“I...uhh...”

Poor kid.

But Aofil can’t stop grinning like an idiot at the whole ordeal.

If the planning can bring this amount of hilarity they can’t wait to see what tomorrow will have in store!

Asriel and Asgore sit back down again, their chairs squeaking loudly as they do.

Toriel moves her head over to Muffet. “I’d also like to extend another special thanks to the wonderful Muffet for her diligent work on the CORE Cake.”

Oh for…

Seriously?

CORE Cake?

Asgore’s naming schemes strike again, with all its dryness. Perhaps even drier than the mix was before Muffet added the wet ingredients.

The room erupts in another applaud towards Muffet, it being a bit quieter than MK’s as Muffet’s six arms now sit carefully on her legs and stomach instead of joining in the applause.

“Ahuhuhu~” she giggles. “Hopefully it’ll be enough to go around.”

“that’s really taking the cake.”

Muffet’s joyful smile drains into a half disgusted frown at Sans’ quip. Her fangs press down on her chin, creating two small dimples that…

Mettaton leans into Aofil’s view, wiggling the top lights of his face panel.

Aofil returns a furrowed brow and averts their eyes.

The small and soft dents still linger in their mind though…

“Never in my entire life have I seen baking as efficient and as diligent as Muffet did during her week spent creating the cake. Masterfully made, and we’re honored to have her here with us to celebrate.”

Another round of applause has Muffet’s smile reigniting. The pressure of her fangs against her chin softens, making her dimples faint, yet still…

“Webbing, Aof?”

Their brow furrows harder, but Mettaton keeps his lightbrows raised high.

“You know where to find me,” he says before returning his focus forward to Toriel.

Aofil does too, although their focus is a bit split, to be honest.

“And finally I’d like to thank the wonderful Mettaton for supplying the costumes and props to be used for the festivities!”

He stands up and twirls his hand in front of him before bowing to the clapping. It’s out of obligation though, not really roaring enthusiasm as with the others.

“We at MTT Costumes are pleased to have-”

“We’ll be trying on the costumes at the end of the day after the preparations and prop placements,” Toriel interrupts as nonchalantly as she can, turning her head away from Mettaton and towards the projector mounted at the back of the room.

“Asriel, child?” she asks while motioning friendly for her son to turn on the projector. 

“I got it,” he answers as he pushes the chair back and stands up. After a few quick taps on the backside of the old projector it spins to life with the sound of a dying diesel engine. Aofil has to turn around to make sure that it’s not catching fire, it sounds so loud.

After a few seconds the deafening fan calms down, albeit just a bit, and the room is filled with a voluminous white light that reflects hard on the already white surfaces of the Lab.

Aofil has to narrow their eyes as to not go blind, and they bet the same is for everyone else if the myriad of pained groans drown out the sound of the projector fan.

Especially Muffet with her five eyes shut closed. Five calm eyes that blinked flustered when she received her applause, with her lashes moving like wheat...during…

Aofil shakes their head.

Focus.

“Asriel, dear,” Toriel asks while holding her hand over her eyes. “Would you kindly turn down the brightness a bit?”

Like a cloud passing by the sun, the room’s color sinks into a low-key gray. Still a lot of purple left in Aofil’s vision from the bright white just a moment ago though.

Dark purple, not fair purple as the skin of Muf-

Focus!

Toriel allows the room a couple of seconds to adjust their vision. She has to rub her own eyes a bit and blink a few times before her warm smile returns to her lips. “Thank you, dear,” she sends over to Asriel who extends his thumb as his other hand massages his eyelids.

“IT’S LIKE WE STEPPED OUT OF THE UNDERGROUND FOR THE FIRST TIME ALL OVER AGAIN!” Papyrus informs before waving his hand up and down in front of his face. “WOWIE! I SEE JUST AS LITTLE AS I DID BACK THEN!”

“Didn’t you wowie over how beautiful it looked back then?” Undyne asks as she turns her perplexed head around.

“I LIKE PURPLE, AND THERE WAS A LOT OF PURPLE IN MY VISION WHEN I FIRST STEPPED OUT ONTO THE SURFACE!”

Nothing Undyne can say against that, and she admits that with a huff and a small shake of her head.

“I picked the wrong time to use contacts,” laments Alphys as she pushes her hands against her face. “Should’ve waited until later...”

“Yes, forgive me,” Toriel apologizes with a small bow of her head. “I brought the projector with me from the school. From the classroom with the view of the field.”

She never did like closing those curtains during her lessons. Too bad everyone else had to suffer for her forgetting that the projector doesn’t need to be as bright in a closed off room as it has to be with the midday sun streaming in through large and uncovered windows.

The purple dots have calmed down enough for Aofil to see properly now, and judging by the simmering down of uncomfortable shuffling the same seems to be true for the monsters as well.

Toriel takes the pointer stick from her armpit and into the palm of her hand. She taps it twice on the projector cloth, and Asriel pushes a button on the projector to switch it over to the first slide. Why Toriel isn’t using the corresponding remote is a bit of a mystery to Aofil.

Oh…wait...

That remote is inside Aofil’s classroom desk since they accidentally took the one meant for their own classroom’s projector with them home accidentally a couple of days ago.

Whoops!

“Now that introductions are in place,” Toriel begins as an overview map of the Underground fades into view. “I would like to say a few word as to why we decided to celebrate Frisk like this.”

Her eyes linger for a second on Aofil before glossing over the rest of the monsters.

“Their first travel through the Underground, as I’m sure you’re all deeply familiar with, and the burden that’s been put on them during their journey is, despite the monumental event it led to, a tragedy. The gauntlets they had to suffer.”

The room turns cold, like it’s suddenly been moved to Snowdin.

“We’ve done our best in putting it behind us, Frisk included, and the less that is said about that bleak chapter of our history, the better. However,” Toriel says as she drags a steadying breath through her nose. “It is because of that tragedy that we considered this. We have a chance to give Frisk catharsis for their past, and catharsis for us as well. If we can’t forget our memories, we can at least shine it under e new light, a more light hearted light, where there’s no danger, only friends acting like friends. This is as much a celebration of us moving on further than we could ever expect to as it is Frisk’s eighteenth birthday.”

“Yeah!” cheers Undyne with her arms stretched high. “Well done us!”

She puts her hands together in a clap, and less than a beat afterwards, the rest again begin applauding.

Applauding each other, applauding themselves.

Good call from Undyne, actually. Aofil gets that Toriel wants it thoughtful, that she wants it to be a somber and reflective moment. However, like her however, that time is behind us. It won’t be forgotten, but we shouldn’t remind it further. Change the context, not the memories. Catharsis is what this is for, so catharsis is what’s to be focused on.

And applauding away the worry is the best of beginnings to the catharsis filled romp tomorrow.

Aofil joins in the clapping.

They’ve done stuff too.

Toriel looks a bit relieved over Undyne’s cheer. Maybe she realized too that she should work what she preached after seeing the others nod and smile at each other.

A family with the darkest shadow stretching far behind them, but a family nonetheless. The ones Frisk has saved, and the kid that’s reminded the monsters to keep their face against the warmth of the sun instead of the cold shadow behind.

Oh boy…

Aofil better drag this tear away before anyone else notices.

Too late.

Toriel coughs a touched chuckle as Aofil catches her catching them. She puts her hand on her chest as the rest of the monsters continue congratulating their others.

“Thank you,” she mouths.

“You too,” Aofil mouths back.

She nods, and claps loudly three times in rapid succession to get back the attention. “Let us continue,” she says as she wields her pointer stick again. “River Person is currently on course around the Underground to deposit the props at their corresponding locations. This will also include the remote controlled puppets.”

Puppets?

Aofil puts up their hand.

“Yes, Aofil?” Toriel asks.

“Puppets?”

Her brow furrows. “You don’t know?”

“It was on the paper I gave you,” Asriel informs. “You didn’t read it?”

Yes, Aofil did. They have it with them in their backpack. See, it’s…

Oh…

There’s text on the other side of the paper too…

Their cheeks begin to blossom out of embarrassment.

“G...Guess I missed it,” they chuckle out as they put the paper back into their backpack.

Uh oh, this was a clumsy by Aofil.

“You know how we didn’t see anyone as we walked here, Aof?” Undyne asks as she leans over the backrest of Aofil’s chair with her thumb pointing at the Lab door. “And remember how you didn’t ask so we all assumed you knew? Because why else didn’t you ask why the Underground is entirely devoid of monsters!? Besides us, that is. And River Person. And Grillby.”

Aofil’s neck cranes back as Undyne moves hers closer. She shakes her head just I front of Aofil. Had she worn a nose it would’ve bent Aofil’s respective. 

“Unbelievable!” she sighs through her lips. “Do you just assume these things by now, Aof? These frankly silly things such as the Underground not having any monsters in it? Besides us, River Person, Grillby, yada yada yada.”

“I kinda have to, yeah,” Aofil defends with a shrug. “You were the one chasing me down Mt. Ebott the first thing you did, so forgive me for being a bit desensitized to the strange happenings. No, not strange, normal, because they fire off like popcorn all the dang time!” they lament while throwing their hands up as they blow their lips.

“Ngahahahahah!” roars Undyne. “I love you, Aof. Don’t you dare forget that.”

“WE ALL DO!” Papyrus joins in while throwing his arms around Aofil in a gleeful embrace.

“Yes, yes, I love you all too,” Aofil assures while patting Papyrus’ back. “Do have patience with this human, will you?”

“This old human?” Undyne adds.

“Don’t push it.”

“Or else you’ll fall over?”

“Of course we’re gonna have patience,” says Toriel with words rising in command until Undyne gets the gist. Her shoulders then sink back to her normal calm state as she turns her head to Aofil to begin explaining. “The reason for the puppets is that, well, there’s not enough monster left in the Underground to populate it to the extent that Frisk saw during their travels. For the ones still here, not now, but usually, we’ve organized a feast in Monster City to celebrate Frisk’s birthday. We’ll be heading there after their tour through the Underground finishes.”

Fair enough. Aofil’s not gonna bother with the details of the assumption that everyone still in the Underground, who probably stayed in the Underground since they didn’t want to, or could, go to the Surface, were enticed not only by the prospect to travel up to the Surface, but also the assumption before that which took it that everyone are so enamored with Frisk that they would set aside said reservations for the Surface, which is the main carrot correlated with Frisk, and travel to the Monster City for Frisky festivities.

“there will be hummus,” Sans whispers, sensing the one large and cranky cogwheel turn in Aofil’s head. “home made.”

Oh, well that explains it.

Aofil do love themselves some hummus.

Since they have a human soul it’s safe to extrapolate that the monsters love hummus even more, and enough to leave the Underground regardless of previous hesitations. And with Aofil’s soul being the fabled Crimson Heart the rest of the humans with less determination wouldn’t be strong enough to resist the allure of hummus as well, canceling their plans to visit the Underground today or tomorrow.

Or something…

Wait, wasn’t Toriel explaining things?

“If it were only us here in the room at the moment spread out over the entire Underground it would be barren. So, Alphys devised these puppets to act as extras during Frisk’s travels.”

Yes, she was.

“She has been working her soul dry to make them all,” Undyne informs while leaning onto Alphys’ head. “I helped too!”

“I only managed to implement some basic interactivity,” Alphys explains while still rubbing her eyes. “But should Frisk take a bit more interest in one we can remote control it through the Lab here.”

“Through the cameras?” Aofil guesses.

“Yes.”

So they didn’t remove them…

“We’re gonna g-go and put them back in first, of course,” Alphys adds. “We removed the cameras a while after the Barrier broke, but the infrastructure is still left, so it’s just a matter of screwing them back in.”

Oh, alright then.

“Then we have some microphones and controllers to control the puppets and have them talk.” Alphys nods behind her, towards the large computer terminal and accompanying monitor just as large. “We’ll take turns, besides the ones Frisk is interacting with, of course. Perhaps we’ll even get some interaction between a puppet and an actor. Easier to distinguish between the two if we call us actors, by the way.”

Works for Aofil. 

Alphys seems to finally have gotten the purple out of her eyes, and she stands up to head back to the computer, but freezes just as she starts to stand up with her hand on the backrest of her chair. Her eyes shoot over to Toriel.

“It’s fine,” Toriel assures. “You can do your demonstration now, Alphys.”

She sighs in relief, “A-Alright!” and shuffles her way over to the computer terminal. After typing in some commands on the keyboard, a video feed starts. It shows the top floor of the Lab.

“Come on down!” Alphys shouts up the stairs.

The video feed begins descending the stairs, and it’s not long before it comes into view.

No…

Aofil quells a heave.

What the hell?

That’s...disgusting! Absolutely appalling!

No! Why? Of all to make a puppet of?

“Jerry?”

“What?” the puppet replies, throwing its neck forward while scowling. “Thought so.”

Sickening.

“Now why would ever do something like this?” Aofil accuses with their hand thrown out against the Jerry puppet. “Why Jerry of all monsters?”

“Because I wanted your reaction,” the puppet snarks. “Ngahahahahaha!”

Hold on…

Aofil’s attention moves over to the computer terminal, and a grinning Undyne spinning a microphone in her hand. She leans into it.

“It was a good one,” the puppet says as Undyne speaks into the microphone.

Undyne hands the microphone to Alphys, who puts it aside.

The Jerry puppet opens it mouth as if on a hinge. “Bap.”

“Oops.” Alphys deactivates the microphone with a quick flick of the button on its side. “There we go.” She picks up a controller very reminiscent of the on used for her game console. She rolls the analog sticks around, causing Jerry to wave his arms in a circular motion.

“The control scheme is similar for all puppets, with a few tweaks if necessary. I’ve labeled the buttons and their functions on a sheet here next to the computer if you want to take a look.”

Alphys places the console on a laminated sheet next to the computer screen.

“We will have a live feed view with both video and audio, from different angles, depending on where Frisk are and how many cameras we have pointing.” A few keystrokes later, multiple panels show up on Alphys’ screen. “Just choose which you want to assume direct control over, and it should pop up.”

“it sounds a bit ominous,” comments Sans with a slight tilt of his head. “can you phrase it like you’re not implying we’re taking away their free will?”

“It’s kinda what we do though,” Aofil retorts as they cross their arms. “I mean, as much as puppets have.” They cock their head over to Mettaton. “No offense.”

“Not gonna dignify that with an answer, sweetie,” comes a sour reply.

Oh, bitter.

Undyne rolls her eye while leaning her head back over her chair very dramatically. “Take it with a pinch of salt, won’t ya, Sans? It’s for Frisk.”

Hopefully it won’t leave as strange a taste in their mouth as it does Aofil’s.

“true,” Sans agrees with a slight nod. “and we got a lot of cake to distract me from questioning sentience.”

“You could do that with a drop of ketchup!” replies Undyne with wild flailing.

“true as well.”

A long and silent beat, disregarding the now loud fan from the projector, hangs over the room until Toriel oughs in her hand to get the attention of the room. “If everyone got the gist of the puppets, should we continue?” 

A murmur of different forms of ‘yes’ begins and ends like a small wave hitting a beach and retreating back into the water.

Toriel smiles along with an acknowledging nod. “Asriel?” she asks her son.

“Huh?” He snaps his head up from laying on top of the projector with his arms folded underneath his forehead as he sucks in a surprised snore through his nose. “Yes.”

The projected slide changes.

“Here’s how we’re gonna place the props.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys want another preparation chapter or should I jump into the swap next chapter?


	27. You are not you, you are me

“Asriel?”

The half masqueraded Boss Monster turns around with his eyes closed as the makeup on his face still is a little bit wet from the first makeup session. “asriel? oh, i’m not asriel, mk. you must’ve-”

“Out of character for now, Az,” Aofil informs while turning their head over their shoulders to make sure the others are busy. “Also maybe tone down the imitation just a bit? Maybe have it just be your voice somewhat like Sans’ instead of a perfect imitation? Less suspicion that way.”

“I guess.” Asriel shrugs, his hood of his blue sweater lifting up as his shoulders does. “Wassup, then?”

“I don’t know if it just slipped your mom’s mind, but I just realized that she never said anything about how Frisk was to get down into the Underground,” Aofil begins while tilting their head forward. “My worries is that if you’ve decided upon something sorta close to what happened back in the day, Frisk might...”

Aofil again turns their head over their yellow painted shoulders with prosthetic scales chafing their chin as they make doubly sure no one will hear. They lean their head closer to Asriel’s. “Reset.”

The sound of Asriel’s eyes opening is akin to violently dragging loose some strong tape. His head cocks worryingly. “You think they would?” he asks through his drawn on smile. The effect it creates is a bit disorientating now that it’s only half finished, with the half done contours of Sans’ features not blending well with the structure of Asriel’s face just yet. Guess that’s why he’s up for a second layering by Radentim.

“I don’t know a hundred percent that they won’t, and you reacting to this has me worried, actually.” Aofil tries to cross their arms, but they fail to underneath the tight striped sweater in which their arms are hiding. Not that they’re abundantly capable of moving their arms after all the prop building and puppet placements yesterday. They should actually be grateful to have a reason not to put more strain on their arms. “I just want a guarantee so that I don’t have to think of it, that’s all.”

Asriel’s brow furrows, reminding Aofil a bit too much of when Sans summons wrinkles that shouldn’t be possible on his bony forehead. “I mean...Mettaton is up first as mom.”

Aofil turns to Mettaton carefully brushing the white and fluffy ears stapled on either side of his EX form’s head. The purple robe he’s wearing sways with each flamboyant tilt he does with his head to get the brush underneath the ears. It’s very clear that he’s added some...padding...to his overall form considering how it curves a bit wider than his EX form would allow normally. Something that Aofil’s sure Toriel is muttering about underneath her breath. She most certainly is catching a glimpse, if not more, through the mirror she’s sitting in front of as Radentim does his and or hers work.

Either because of that or the borderline deprived way Mettaton uses a pool cue cube to polish his prosthetic horns.

“You thinking he’ll shatter the immersion from the word go?” Aofil hazards a guess. It’s not totally out of question that such will be the case. True, with Mettaton being the one making the introductions, it’s well within acceptable parameters, if not a perfect bull’s eye.

Still, it’s not a complete guarantee.

“Frisk is smart, they’ll figure it out in no time.” Asriel nods confidently. “i guaranteeth it,” he says while flashing his own set.

“Don’t.”

“Gotta get back in character..”

Aofil’s not buying it. “Sure...”

What’s on the till though is Asriel being Frisk’s brother, after all. Of all people, monsters and humans, he should know.

Aofil should trust and let down their hair a bit.

Well, they can’t really now with the skin tight costume they’re wearing. Scale tight? Considering the texture of it?

Either way, pretty tight.

Remember what Toriel said before. Catharsis, change of context, just calm down. It’s gonna be fun, it’s gonna be all the way silly and ridiculous, and guaranteed absurd seeing their friends acting like their other friends.

Just…

Fine…

“When you punch a wall, the wall punches back just as hard.”

Wait a second.

Aofil turns around, sweeping the floor behind them with their tail. They flinch at the sight of Toriel smiling at them, and without arms to regain balance, they start to tip. Their tail provides enough inertia for Aofil to regain their large, paw-like, footing, and they blink as Toriel puts up her hand above her mouth to quell her giggling.

A human hand, with fair skin, covering her face painted like Aofil’s. Red, bright cheeks peeking on either side of her hand. Her hair further out is in the same color as Aofil’s. Red eyes blink in amusement at Aofil’s dumbfounded stare.

“Like looking in a mirror?” Toriel asks with her voiced toned as close to Aofil’s as possible. Not really the best of imitations, but Aofil can’t really blame her for that. Their MK imitation is horrible, and even more horrible on their vocal chords. 

Toriel tugs at her blue jeans shirt, exposing her pink undershirt. “Took a while until we found some in my size,” she says while turning around and inspecting her back and sides. “I like it. Pink is a good color.”

“Asriel!” shouts Radentim as he opens up a nearby cupboard. “Second layer!” She takes out some more black and white paint, popping the lids open before placing them on her work table adjacent to the mirror and barber’s chair.

Aofil still hasn’t been convinced proper that the paint Radentim uses isn’t ordinary house paint, especially not with him and or her popping the lids off with a screwdriver. Perhaps-

A sudden pressure makes its acquaintance with Aofil’s lumbar, and they instinctively turn around, catching Asriel stepping off their tail with a hunched posture, as if he also felt the pain.

Pain of faux pas, not physical, that is.

“Sorry,” he mouths before he begins jogging over to Radentim at the other side of the Lab.

Aofil looks over their shoulder at their tail. It wasn’t exactly painful what Asriel did, more like their tail only made them aware that something happened.

They flex their lower back.

The tail flops up, landing back down with a thick thud.

“That’s...”

Aofil repeats their action, but only at the right side of their lumbar. This causes their tail to drag itself rightwards. They try their left lumbar, their tail move left. A bit up and to the left, keeping it there for a second or so.

How high can they bend it?

“Don’t throw your back out,” advises Toriel.

Aofil didn’t really hear what she said through their clenching. They shift their eyes to Toriel. “What did you-” 

They’re interrupted by their tail giving them a bump on the back of their head, causing them to step forward from the shifted weight. As their tail comes back down they regain their balance again.

“That’s...” Aofil repeats with their head still facing the ground. “For the sake of being in character I’m gonna say that it’s really freaking awesome,” they say as they stand up straight again.

“So...I should say that it’s really freaky?” Toriel wonders with her hand pushed against her shirt.

Now that’s the freaky part.

Seeing Toriel with a human hand, even if it is clearly a modified surgical glove. Slender has never been a good word to describe Toriel with, and with her fingers and hand looking very slender through her glove. It gets quite a hesitation from Aofil.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Aofil replies as they continue testing their tail. If they really focus they might be able to get it to rotate around.

“Everyone!” shouts Alphys from the computer. Or was it the computer that shouted? Or was it Alphys forgetting to turn off her voice modulator? “Sans has delivered Frisk now!” Alphys shouts again after a couple of seconds in her normal voice.

Delivered?

Toriel motions for Aofil to follow her to the computer, and they do so while trying to keep their tail above the floor.

Don’t want to get it dirty.

“They’re still asleep, right?” wonders Asriel as he swivels the barber’s chair around before getting a stern look from Radentim as she and or he swivels it back with an angry huff.

“Still asleep, yes!” Alphys relays with a nod.

“not for long if you keep shouting like that,” Sans quips, emerging with his glued on wig and sideburns flowing gently in his shortcut breeze.

The gust of wind daintily lifts Mettaton’s robe, exposing his legs to the upper part of his thighs. He pushes it down while giggling to himself.

“My king,” he says to Sans, who is stroking the yellow beard stuck onto his chin and cheeks. “Not with other people around, my king.” Mettaton fans himself with his open palm, swooning on the brink of fainting.

A loud and rubbery clench emerges from Toriel’s glove, and her mouth pouts on an annoyed angle. A dark shadow creeps over her eyes from her fringe as she tilts her head down while muttering curses underneath her breath.

“It’s for Frisk,” Aofil hears her end with a calming sigh. “It’s for Frisk.” 

How much that calming sigh actually did to calm her down is up for debate.

What isn’t though is the enormous glee Aofil’s barely able to keep inside them.

This day is already amazing!

The computer shows a feed of Frisk lying on a mattress in the middle of vast cavern. Aofil’s pretty sure where exactly it is, but they’d rather not ask.

Good thing Asriel is at Radentim’s care right now. Him furrowing his brow to bolster himself against seeing where he as Flowey first attacked Frisk might ruin the makeup.

Looking at Frisk sleeping, moving aside the Mt. Ebott sized feeling of creepiness watching someone else sleep through a camera, it brings Aofil a bit of calm. They look very peaceful, despite their arms being strewn about like they were just dropped down onto the mattress.

Well...Sans shortcutted Frisk there, so it’s a plausible case that it’s what it’s looks like. Hopefully Frisk will be as smart as Asriel assures. Aofil ain’t got a lot of doubt against that, but again, that small lingering feeling is still there.

“Yes, now you’re done, Prince,” comes an annoyed sigh from Radentim’s way. He and or she spin the barber’s chair so that Asriel can eagerly jump out of it.

“So, now that Frisk is here,” Toriel begins as Asriel hurries over from Radentim’s chair the second he and or she finishes her and or his work. “We can begin the final preparations. Inside the Lab, you’re you, apart from when Frisk reaches the Lab, that is. We’ll have it be inconspicuous by the time Frisk arrives here. Otherwise, when you’re outside in the Underground, you’re your character unless stated otherwise. Which means that you will be...”

Toriel moves her...human...hand over to Asgore.

“I will be the Great Papyrus!” Asgore cheers, stepping one of his shin high red boot up on a nearby bow. He pushes out his chest, expanding the white foam armor covering his torso, as well as the, frankly ridiculously, small armor covering his waist and hips. He throws his long red scarf around his neck, smiling through both the teeth painted on the fur on his face, as well as his own glistening rows.

Toriel moves her...still...human...hand...over to Undyne.

She pushes up the glasses resting on her large prosthetic nose, causing them to dramatically reflect the ceiling light. She hunches over, and moves back her lower jaw to expose a set of clumsy buck teeth. “I’m A-Alphys! The smartest monster!”

Toriel motions again with her...human…

AAARGHH!

Calm down.

Take a deep breath…

And try again.

Toriel motions with her hand for Undyne to take it down a bit.

“I-It’s me back t-then,” Alphys reminds through the open flap in her Mettaton costume.

Undyne sighs, whistling through the small gap between her two front teeth. “Fine,” she spits awkwardly through her buck teeth.

She sweeps her tail around with a bit more finesse than Aofil has over theirs, and catches it with her yellow painted hands, wringing it while looking down. “I-I’m A-Alphys.”

Hearing Undyne’s voice being the antitheses of confident is really, really, unsettling to Aofil’s ears. Even factoring in that it’s being filtered through the rubber suit clinging onto their head, it still sounds weird.

“I’m t-the head sc-cientist,” Undyne continues while trying to disappear into her lab coat. The collar gets caught on one of her flat neck spikes, and she aborts the process lest she slices them through her coat’s fabric.

Alphys approves of the performance. Her uneven smile tells of it being a bit too close to home, but she swallows the feeling away.

Good on her for being able to do that.

“I c-created...” Undyne speaks through her nose while timidly motioning over to Alphys.

“I’m...” She pauses to tilt the face panel back up. She retracts her legs and tail up into the metallic box with a few wobbles on the one wheel still left to keep balance. She steadies herself after a bit, and raises one hand high. “I’m Mettaton, darlings!” Alphys proclaims proudly.

The face panel on her costume falls down again, exposing her getting a little to much into the role inside.

With an awkward chuckle she closes the face panel again.

“Please, do come visit MTT Hotel some time, we’re so eager for your money.”

Aofil’s eyes move over to the real Mettaton to gauge the reaction, but there is none.

So it’s all true then.

Not really the biggest of surprises, to be honest.

Alphys pirouettes around on her wheel while confetti pops out from the top of her box costume.

That Mettaton nods to, quite impressed, actually.

Creation approving its creator’s imitation to its creation.

Oh boy…Aofil’s head is starting to spin.

Good thing their tail is there to keep their balance.

Maybe they should get one permanently?

Their ancestors had tails, albeit not as big as the one Aofil’s using right now. They also do still have a tailbone which is getting some use after what…thousands of years? Hundred thousands?

Is Aofil getting evolutionary nostalgic?

Their tail flaps as the thought strike them.

Guess that’s proof enough.

“Ngahahahahaha!” roars MK as he steps up to Alphys. He swings his head around to get the hair from his red wig out of his blue face. With an intimidating slap of his tail painted to resemble one of Undyne’s spear he bumps Alphys’s box with his novelty breastplate while flashing a bright and yellow smile, the contours of which pushes against the inside of his lips.

“I’m Undyne! The leader of the Royal Guard!” MK shouts again, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m the coolest monster there is! You hear that, punks? You think you can mess with me, think again! Although you probably can’t since you believed you could mess with me in the first place!”

Undyne takes out a notebook from her lab coat pocket and scribbles a few lines down.

MK’s smile begins to waiver as he catches his own reflection staring back at him with one eye, a blue face, long red hair put up in a pony tail that stretches far down his back. His black and intimidating armor to show his prowess and coolness. “I’m...” He coughs a choke, followed by a short gasp. “I’m Undyne...”

“This all stays here, right?” Aofil whispers over to Toriel.

“How do you mean?” she whispers back curiously.

“I can make MK’s day, if not life right now, but I’m not sure-”

“Not sure about what?” Toriel shoots her brow down sternly. “We’re all friends and family, Aofil. No one is gonna make fun of you for getting into character.”

Guess she’s guessed Aofil’s intention.

It’s naive of her to think that no one present will nudge Aofil at their side and wink slyly along with a snicker if they do it though.

Although, it’s also quite endearing at the same time.

Aofil’s tail taps as they think.

They do have a bit thicker skin what with it being scales now.

You know that?

Let’s just do it.

“Y-y-y-y-yooooo!” Aofil stammers out in a starstruck whisper. They get the attention of MK, who turns his head around to see the imitation of himself bouncing on knees so filled with eagerness that they can’t do anything else. “Undyne! It’s you!”

The yellow teeth in MK’s mouth flash like lightning from a clear sky as it grows instantly into a cheek-stretching grin.

“You’re so cool!” Aofil continues, whipping their tail back and forth in such excitement that Toriel has to take a step away to not be tripped from it hitting her ankles. “I mean, yooo, it’s you! Who can be cooler than you, Undyne?”

“No one!” MK shouts back. “All the others who think I am are punks! Whelps that can never be as best and awesome as I am!”

There are few things in life one would describe as religious.

What MK’s expressing right now, is far, far above that. Up into the stars he is, with his eyes glittering just like them on a cloudless night.

“Ahuhuhu~”

“H-hey look!” Undyne points out with a bent finger. “It’s Mew Mew!”

Muffet puts a hand up to her mouth. Looks like her giggle slipped out of her accidentally. She moves her eyes to Aofil and MK, as if apologizing for interrupting the two. They nod back, encouraging her to go ahead.

She grabs her staff and the edge of her pink and frilly dress. “I’m Mew Mew,” she introduces with a bow. “How magical to see you all of you.”

“Yooo, Undyne?” Aofil asks to MK. “Aren’t you, like, in love with Mew Mew?”

Undyne shoots a pair of lowered brows over to Aofil through her glasses.

“Yeah! It’s the best show!” MK answers.

See! Aofil was completely right in others cheekily poking fun as the one they’re dressed up as.

Yes, yes, they were the one to do it, but they were still right!

Muffet’s cat ears perk and shift as she looks around. “It seems that my mikkarama pet is not with me, but I’m sure we’ll be seeing him soon.”

Wait!

Muffin too?

“Has it dried yet?” Aofil hears Toriel whisper to Asriel.

“I think so,” he answers after testing carefully by touching his makeup.

She then motions for him to go next.

Asriel shoves his hands into the front pockets of his blue hoodie. He lowers his poster, and puts on a big smile.

“Sans here.”

The others wait patiently for him to continue, but he just shrugs it off.

He knows his character, it seems.

Toriel waits for an additional while before realizing that she has to pick someone else to continue. She chooses…

Her eyes quickly avert from Mettaton.

She picks Papyrus.

“HOWDY, ALL! I AM ASRIEL, PRINCE AND BEST SIBLING TO FRISK!” he greets while dragging his hand across the top of his head along the glued on fur and plastic horns poking up from his skull.

“I’M THEIR ONLY SIBLING SO IT SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING, IF I WEREN’T VERY PROUD OF IT, THAT IS!”

Aofil shifts their head over to Asriel with a raised eyebrow. They can feel the paint on their forehead stretch across their formed wrinkles, but it should hold for this inquisitive inquiry.

Asriel retorts with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“MY PARENTS ARE THE KING AND QUEEN!” Papyrus continues, pointing to Sans and Mettaton respectively. “ISN’T THAT RIGHT, MY ROYAL PARENTS?”

“i could sure go for a cup of tea right now,” Sans makes it known. A kingly decree, if you will. He scratches the beard glued onto his chin. “i grew it myself, so it should be good.”

“Of course it will, my dear,” Mettaton assures. He puts his together on his robe. “My child, would that please you, my child?” he asks Papyrus with a comforting tilt of his head. “It’s not quite lunch yet, my child, but for today I think we can make an exception, my child.”

Why Toriel bothered with putting on color for her red cheeks when her fuming like this would’ve done the trick and look more natural is a question Aofil will derive great pleasure from in the future.

Again their prophecy becomes self fulfilled, in all senses.

“What about you, human?” Mettaton wonders over to Toriel, catching her off guard in her boiling annoyance. “I’ll bake a pie for the occasion.”

She quickly clears her throat. “I’d like that,” she answers. “Although, not a lot of snails, please. I’m terrible at hiding my distaste of it.”

Uh oh…

“But I’m sure we can be great friends regardless,” Toriel adds with a sly wink over to Aofil.

Guess they can.

“Sorry for breaking character,” Alphys informs quite hectic. Her face panel slamming down catches the immediate attention of the rest of the monsters and human. “But I think Frisk is about to wake up.”

Asriel pokes his head around the monitor. After a couple of second of assessing Frisk’s tossing and turning on their mattress he turns to the rest. “I’d say about ten to fifteen minutes or so before they wake up.”

Toriel nods. “Are we all warmed up then?” she asks, getting unanimous nods as an answer.

“Perfect, now let’s take our positions.”


	28. Purple instead of pink

“It’s all so weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just...everything. I just realized how strange it all is. Don’t you? You feel it too, don’t you? The...it’s so hard to describe! I’m so confused.”

Aofil would love to throw their hand out to emphasize their baffled state, but alas it is stuck to their side inside their costume.

What the hell is Undyne talking about? Is it just hitting her now the absurdity of it all?

She motions over her exposed teeth dragged into an uncomfortable smile. “You know when you buy a bulk pack of toothpaste and then switch to a new one once your previous bulk purchase is all emptied, Aof?”

What…

Undyne runs her tongue over her teeth, including the plastic buckteeth poking down like a pair of obnoxious curtains from inside her upper lip. Each minuscule distance her tongue moves makes her yellow painted brow lower further and further behind her bulky rimmed glasses. 

She shudders while her fingers curl. 

“It’s so weird.”

Aofil could sure use a pair of glasses themselves so that they could take them off and clean them to get their confusion across since they feel a bit at a loss for words right about now. How they’d do it with their arms not available for use is not for now to discuss since there’s no pair of glasses lying around for them to put on in the first place.

“Shh!” hushes Asriel harshly over his shoulder. “Frisk is about to wake up.”

Undyne continues her wiping with her tongue even after planting her eyes towards the Lab computer screen showing Frisk tossing and turning on their mattress.

Aofil sits down in their chair they dragged to them with the use of their tail. Carefully, as to make sure that their tail makes it through the opened lower half of the chair’s backrest.

Frisk stretches their arm over their head, letting it fall down over the edge of the mattress. Their eyes shoot wide open as their hand touches the petals of the Golden Flower patch surrounding them. Less than a second later they throw themselves up onto their feet, their cover wrapped tightly around them.

“Frisk doesn’t sleep naked, right?” Aofil whispers to Asriel.

They get a half disgusted, half angry look thrown back at them along with a small curl of Asriel’s lips.

Guess they don’t, since the camera hasn’t turned off for sake of their decency.

Hopefully.

Frisk’s head snaps from side to side, their breathing increasing with each rapid turn.

Now let’s see if they’ll be able to figure it out.

“Please, Frisk,” Aofil begs under their breath. They shoot a worrying look over to Asriel, who mimics it. Only Aofil notices him moving his hand towards the keyboard connected to the computer.

They pray he doesn’t have to touch it.

“Hello. Are you alright?”

Frisk spins their entire body towards where they heard the motherly voice, and the visage that greets them has them recoiling back, almost tripping over backwards. 

“I am Toriel, the caretaker of these Ruins,” Mettaton introduces with a slight bow. “I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down. It’s been a long time since the last human fell into these Ruins. Please, come with me. I will guide you through this worrisome place.”

He’s taking a few liberties with his script, which is fair enough. It’s Mettaton, after all. However, he’s not putting as much a spin on it as Aofil suspec-

Mettaton suddenly throws his arms out while jumping up on his toes. He spins around, causing his purple robe to lift up as he twirls around.

“For I am the Queen of the Underground!” he loudly proclaims, his voice echoing proudly throughout the large cavernous room. “I will treat you to a Royal Escort through this perilous purple place, as you have now become my subject, whom which I am sworn to host to the most magnificent and majestic m...”

While everyone’s eyes glare at Mettaton for not only going off script, but losing the track of his personal performance, two pairs stare at Frisk.

Asriel and Aofil’s eyes are locked hard on Frisk’s hand grasping at their chest. Their head is bent over, their shoulders heaving as their grip hardens. They don’t even notice their cover sliding off them and landing strangely piled onto their mattress.

Maybe they don’t care because...

No…

No!

Frisk!

“Don’t!”

Frisk bends over as they cough a choke.

No no no no no no no no!

But what follows isn’t a cry, but a chortle. A loud chortle, so loud that it interrupts Mettaton in his interpretative dancing to fill out the awkward silence he’s created. Frisk’s head is thrown backwards, revealing a gleaming grin that’s wide open in bursting laughter. They shake their head, mumbling incoherently through their guffaw. 

“Are you well, small one?” Mettaton asks, now seemingly back onto the original script, or as closely as possible. 

“I’m...I’m-” Frisk can barely speak through their laughter. Their head bends over as they try and suppress it with their hand. “I’m fine,” they manage to articulate after another while of interrupting snorts. “Yes,” they giggle. “I’m fine. Do lead the way, Toriel, caretaker of these Ruins.”

Their pause at Toriel’s name removes any doubt in Aofil’s head. Like a typhoon it sweeps the doubt away, never to be seen again.

Good freaking riddance!

Aofil sighs deeply of relief, feeling their shoulder sink into further into their costume. Asriel turns his head over his shoulder, and the two nod to signal that they both caught Frisk catching on. 

Great, now the even can continue without any more worries.

No worries at all.

Not even the slightest.

Perfect to the script, and no other deviations at all.

“Could you scratch my back, Asgore?” Aofil whispers as they present their backside to him. “It just started itching all of a sudden.”

“Strange,” he answers before offering a soothing claw on Aofil’s back.

Oh god…

“Yeah, strange,” they say after Asgore’s finished scratching.

“I’m worried how Mettaton will continue,” mutters Toriel with her...human...hand clenched at her mouth. “He must’ve bid his time acting according to the script while around us so that we would trust him to do it with Frisk too.”

Toriel’s hand constricts, causing the rubber glove to wail in pain.

“If he as much as lifts that robe over his ankles...”

“H-He’s d-doing it-t to not stain it on t-the floor, Toriel,” Alphys informs as if she’s delivery a death sentence to a dear friend.

The twitch in Toriel’s eye surely has the nearest geological station worried about an earthquake, but after a calming exhale, that would have the same geological station worried about the aftershock of said earthquake, she puts her balled fist against her forehead. A few bounces on it later she takes a deep breath through her nose.

“Guess we’re winging it.”

Winging it? 

“Haven’t we already been winging it?” Aofil asks to clarify. “Like, all the time? Ever since day one?”

“No?” Toriel asks back. “There was always a script.”

All eyes turn to Aofil despite loud mechanical clacks booming out of the computer’s speakers.

“I didn’t see any...” they defend. “I never head of one.”

“We’ve been talking about a script for two days now, Aof?” Undyne chimes in with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you mean it figuratively.”

“If Aofil didn’t even read the backside of the paper with all of our roles on, why would they have read the script?” Asriel pretends to ponder.

“No,” Aofil repeats with their brow hardened against Asriel getting a bit much into the role of Sans, especially with him mirroring that smug smile of his. “I didn’t get a script.”

“But why not?” Toriel asks, mostly to herself. “I gave it to Mettaton who-”

Her fist again bounces on her forehead as she mutters underneath her breath.

From the computer comes a compliment on a hat. It’s followed shortly by a wavering “Happy birthday, Frisk… Enjoy your present...”

“I don’t want to say that I told you so, Toriel,” Asgore voices after a quick glance and a smile at Frisk mounting an ethereal top hat on their head. He quickly realizes that he might’ve entered into a battle he would’ve been better off not participating in, as the gaze shot at him from Toriel almost melts the foam his armor is made out of.

Aofil sure wishes their own red eyes could produce such heat.

“Ribbit,” emerges from the computer’s speaker.

Alphys spins on her wheel to monitor. “Good,” she concludes after Frisk passes the Froggit puppet with a quick wave. “The puppets are working.”

“Glad something is...” Toriel sighs with a quick shake of her head. “Will the puppets be able to handle things going off script, Alphys?”

She nods, causing her light panel flap to...flap. “They should be able to, and again, we can assume direct control should it be necessary,” she explains while motioning over the controller as if presenting a prize on a TV show.

Getting into the role of Mettaton, Aofil sees.

“So our worries are, for the moment, contained at Mettaton,” Toriel explains.

Judging by the reaction of everyone in the Lab, including Radentim scoffing as she and or he briefly halts her reading her and or his magazine in her and or his barber chair, Toriel just explained the blatantly obvious. No one wants to put her on the spot for doing it though, so the Lab falls into a heavy silence.

A while later it’s broken by a motherly voice. “Welcome to your new home, innocent one,” Mettaton wishes to Frisk.

The computer screen shows Mettaton motioning softly towards the purple house at the opposite side of the room he and Frisk just entered.

“Wasn’t he supposed to say that earlier?” Alphys mutters out. “Wait! They’re at Toriel’s house already?”

“AGAIN FRISK STUNS US WITH THEIR PUZZLE SOLVING SKILLS!” Papyrus cheers at the computer screen, his green striped sweater bouncing joyously as he does. “THEY DIDN’T EVEN HESITATE TO THINK BEFORE SOLVING THEM ALL!”

“Did you redesign the puzzles or did you just reset them?” Aofil asks to Toriel. “They’re an adult now, after all. They’ve had a couple of years to hone said puzzle skills.”

“We didn’t want to tarnish the cultural importance the ancient puzzles had,” Asgore explains with a slight tilt to his head. “The Ruins weren’t always the Ruins, and there’s much history there.”

Fair enough. 

Frisk tucks their hat down as they enter through the door held open by Mettaton.

Toriel’s eyes widen in sudden realization as the camera source switches to one inside the house.

“I didn’t hold the door open for them...” spills out of her mouth. “I must’ve hurried for the pie...”

“Are you alright?” Aofil wonders with a worried curiosity. Her being stunned like this can never bode well.

“Did-” Asgore clamps his own mouth shut with his hand before more can escape him. He takes a glance over to Toriel, but she’s lost in her own horrified mumbling to have noticed him.

“What, dad?” Asriel pries. “Something about mom?”

Asgore removes his hand. Asriel asking him might be enough of an alibi not to be set on fire by Toriel. He clears his throat. “I think your mom just realized that Mettaton gave Frisk a warmer welcome than what she did.”

“Why did I close the door behind me? It must’ve been the pie,” Toriel says in a desperate effort to convince herself. “It must have! For the surprise factor! Why else would I’ve...”

“Do you smell that?” asks Mettaton after carefully taking Frisk’s hat and placing it on a hat rack on the far end of the hallway using his extended arm. The friendly gesture has Toriel sweating at the eyebrows, and she tries to hide her eyes and head in her...human...hand.

Frisk takes a sample of the air.

“Surprise!” Mettaton applauds. “It’s a hearty breakfast!”

Frisk’s head tilts inquisitively.

“I thought we might celebrate your arrival, so I spent all morning preparing this for you.”

That’s a lie, but no one in the Lab is in a position to call Mettaton out on it.

“I want you to have a nice time living here, my child. You’re my child now, my child, so I will hold off on snail pie for tonight, my child.”

Toriel emerges slowly from her hand, her cheeks now blossoming like Aofil’s, if not more. She looks at Asriel.

“You did say that a lot back in the days, mom,” Asriel has to inform his mother with a heavy heart. It’s a bit incongruous hearing Asriel deliver such bad news to his mother with an ever present smile on his face.

Toriel sighs as she shakes her head. “I did not expect this...”

Aofil now has to vigorously curse their lack of useful arms. Before when their back was itching they just cursed their lack of useful arms normally, but now it’s vigorous.

Because they’ve no idea how they’re gonna hold in this splitting grin of theirs!

Luckily Mettaton’s flamboyant serving of Frisk’s breakfast distracts enough for Aofil to not be called out on their grievous giggling.

The hunger in Frisk’s eyes is palpable, as Mettaton dances in and out of the kitchen, bringing with him an entire smorgasbord of delicious plates. Frisk digs hungrily in, all the while Mettaton stands behind with his hands planted on the front of his robe.

“I’ll prepare your room in the meantime,” he calmly informs to Frisk back after a gentle tussle of their hair. “You just tell me when you feel full.”

Frisk’s seemingly insatiable appetite halts for a split second, their fork filled with egg and bacon hovering an inch from their lips. Their brow lowers for just a moment before they shake it off and shove their fork into their mouth.

“Bets on what that could be?” Asriel shoots over to the rest of the costumed crowd.

“Besides horrible table manners?” Aofil answers with coy. Had Toriel not been busy muttering under her breath they wouldn’t have made that comment, but if Asgore feels that it was safe to, then it must be for Aofil as well.

They’re not spared Asriel’s tired gaze though. Not as strong as his mother, since he’s only half of her.

Nice, they’re well on their way on the path of pushing out the fact about Asriel’s true nature. This even is already doing good for Aofil, which is good. 

They did catch themselves on being wrong though, but steady on.

One day they’ll get there.

“My most educated guess would be the cooking,” Undyne answers after breathing in clumsily through her buckteeth. “Since, you know...”

“METTATON HAD THE OVEN ON A BIT TOO LOW?” Papyrus hazards with a twirl of his fur covered glove.

Dammit, seeing that makes Aofil aware of the fur on their arm and how it’s been chafing against their costume!

And they can’t do a whole lot about it! Only twirl it slightly. It’ll have to do though.

Even if it doesn’t do anything, really.

“Sure,” Undyne nods. “Let’s go with that.”

A bit weird of Undyne to imply that it’s Papyrus’ cooking that’s at fault since the scrambled eggs Frisk was served was supposed to be sunny side up, and that could very well have been the source of the confusion. The half salvaged state wrapped around their fork.

But a certain blue monster insisted on using her magic to stir.

Sparks and intense aura doesn’t do well on the delicate surface tension holding an egg together. Hence, scrambled eggs. Goes down Frisk’s hatch without further hesitation so evidently the food isn’t the case.

Must be Mettaton mentioning the room, or more specifically, reminding Frisk that Toriel did so as well. It’s not the accommodation though, but what followed it. After Frisk realized what Toriel actually wanted them to do.

Stay there forever.

“You can leave the dishes,” Mettaton informs after having opened the door to Frisk’s room slightly ajar. 

Frisk still cleans up after themselves, putting their finished plates inside the basin filled with water inside the kitchen. They hold their hand on the knob of one of the drawers for a short second, but decides against opening it.

Aofil’s not sure what to make of that, and nor is Asriel. The two pout their lips in thought as Frisk heads back into the living room and down the hallway.

“I’ll be in the living room should you need me,” Mettaton says in passing to Frisk with a gentle bow of his head. His stapled on ears flop like two wet socks hang to dry in windy weather from the motion.

Frisk smiles back and bows their own head, but their smile quickly fades as they turn away from Mettaton. Furrowed thought replaces their warm smile, and it stays on even as they enter their prepared room.

A neat pile of clothes has been placed on the bed. Undershirt with a purple sweater, pants, and a fresh set of underwear.

The last part has Aofil worried why the video feed is still going.

And they should probably voice that concern.

They smack their lips. “Should we really be watching Frisk change clothes?”

The room trade glances with each other before all turning to Alphys. She freezes for a second before moving her hand over to the keyboard.

“Wait,” Asriel says as he pushes away Alphys’ hand.

Frisk moves over to the bed and picks up the pile.

“Just because you’ve seen them doesn’t me we shou-”

“Shh!”

Aofil cranes their head back from Asriel’s vicious hush. Before they can react, their eyes move up to the computer screen again.

Adult or not, they shouldn’t be watching this.

“Asriel,” Aofil begins, but when Frisk puts away the clothes, their voice trails off into an alleviated sigh.

Frisk lays down on the bed with their thumbs rolling along on their stomach. Their gaze is locked hard on the ceiling, dangerously close to where the camera is mounted.

“You think they’ve seen the camera?” Toriel asks.

Asriel shakes his head. “No, they haven’t. I think...” He pushes off from the computer desk with a sigh through his painted lips. “I think they might be thinking. Taking it all in.”

Seems to be the case, Aofil concludes as well. Frisk throughout expression is sunk deep. Even when considering the effect gravity has since they’re laid down on their back. 

Their head must be rushing with memories and how to interpret them. It’s a given that they’re feeling a bit hesitant, but to which extent Aofil can’t tell through the resolution of the camera. 

“What are they thinking, Aofil?”

They turn their head to Undyne’s yellow one, before shooting a look over to Asriel staring without as much as a faint thought that he should get into position since he’s supposed to be up on stage in the not so distant future.

He’s got a jacket on so he won’t be sick should Frisk take a bit more time to think.

“Why are you asking me and not Asriel?” Aofil replies with a quick tilt of their head.

“You’re a human,” Undyne answers as she adjusts her glasses.

Aofil’s eyes narrow instinctively in an attempt to get more clarity. It fails.

“It’s not that I can’t read what Frisk is thinking,” Undyne begins to explain after shaking her head slowly. “But,” she says through clenched teeth, “you know… You’re a human, and Frisk is too.” 

Undyne’s words has the rest also turning their heads to Aofil for the answer. Seems like they were all thinking it too, and are eagerly curious for Aofil’s answer.

Hm…

Frisk leans their head over the edge of the bed with their eyes resting on the pile of clothes they dropped onto the floor. They reach down while simultaneously sitting themselves up on the bed’s edge. The purple striped sweater hangs from their hands, and they look at it unblinkingly.

It should be obvious, even to the monsters, what’s running through Frisk’s mind like a torrential river. Judging by the way the deafening silence grows with each minute movement Frisk does, the monsters know exactly.

So why ask Aofil? Did they think Aofil would have a different answer?

Or maybe the monsters wanted to hear a human say what they themselves thought. To hear their own monster thoughts come out of a human’s mouth, out of Aofil’s mouth.

To wash away the guilt still lingering from when Frisk fell down, and the times before with the other kids? 

If a human thinks the same then the past is behind everyone, right?

Frisk’s birthday seems less for them with each passing second.

It’s more for the monsters than them at this point. Aofil don’t think that it was the intention, but it is what happened. It’s turned into an introspect for the monsters.

But hey, at least there’s cake and costumes.

Introspective can still be fun, right?

Frisk puts the sweater against their torso while looking at themselves in the mirror. Their eyes hang for a second before shooting over to the door. They put down the sweater with a sigh, and then run their hand down their pajamas and-

Oh good, the feed stopped.

Phew!

“Mettaton should be ready by now,” Alphys informs after coughing away the silence. “Asriel, you should be getting into position.”

He nods. “Right, Sans?”

“yes, you?”

“Still inside the Lab, Sans.”

He shrugs, and brings Asriel through a shortcut. He comes back alone with a cold breeze following him.

“prince has been planted.”

Alphys acknowledges with a quick nod, and switches the camera feed to one of a long hall. It’s the one underneath Toriel’s house, with Mettaton standing at the end of it in front of a large door. Footsteps are heard, increasing in volume.

Mettaton turns around, and comes face to face with Frisk standing half the length of the hallway away from him. Their striped sweater blends halfway into the surrounding scenery, but still they’re brightly illuminated.

As their large and warm smile lights up the entire hallway with its radiance.

“You want to leave, don’t you, my child?” Mettaton speaks softly as small square robots dressed up as flames emerge from behind him. “To celebrate your eighteenth birthday and become an adult?”

Frisk takes a step forward.

“Then prove to me.”

And another.

Aofil is offered a handful of popcorn from Undyne which they gladly take a mouthful out of. Her eyes are too glued on the screen to notice Aofil almost biting on one of her fingers.

“Prove to me that you can handle the Underground!”


	29. Hot legs and laughs

“Wow...”

The entire Lab draws a collective exhale, letting the mesmerized air out in a joint sigh. The thumping bass from Frisk and Mettaton’s fight still resonates like thunder that’s just passed by.

And what thunder it was!

So that was why Blookie was there, to do the music! Damn, he really gave it his all. Shocked Frisk for a moment, sure, but it wasn’t long before they started bobbing their head with the rhythm, just like the viewers in the Lab.

Aofil needs to remember to ask for the song from Blookie. It’ll be perfect for their workout. One of many great songs, hopefully, if the one for this fight is anything to go by.

On the monitor Frisk breathes out while leaning their hands rest on their knees. Their body heaves up and down as they recover from the fight through some heavy breaths. Well, it was more a dance than a fight, to be honest. Less flamboyant than what Mettaton would usually do and more…sophisticated. That’s most likely the closest word to use here. So different from his normal routine of being a star on stage.

He’s got range, gotta give him that.

A ballet, or a ball at a grand castle back in the days of kings and queens. Mettaton sure did take the role of queen to heart with his performance.

A bit too liberal with how high he should kick his legs while wearing a robe, true, but who can blame him?

Toriel, most likely.

But that’s for later.

Frisk did also put their best foot forward, and then their other, and then their best again. It reminded Aofil of when they took Frisk to soccer practice that one time so many years ago.

So many years…

Their dodging hasn’t faded one bit. Undyne’s work, most likely. That proud smile of hers is still very much hers even with the layers of paint and prosthetic making her look like Alphys. Even Radentim with his and or her many layers of makeup and skill can’t stop Undyne’s smile from flashing brighter than the sun.

“Awesome!” she shouts with her arms held up high in triumph. “Frisk takes the win once again! Ngahahahaha! So awesome! Just how we planned!”

“Yeah...planned,” Toriel is hesitant to agree. Her eyes are hard on Mettaton brushing off his purple robe. His many robotic flames gather around him, and after blowing kisses to Frisk, who blows one back, the flames retreat behind Mettaton’s back.

“I NEVER KNEW YOU WERE SO FLEXIBLE, TORIEL!” Papyrus voices in half a cheer, half a question.

As if being struck by the heaviest and bluntest object in the known world, Toriel’s head shoots forward with her eyes almost popping out of her skull. She coughs as if her entire being is about to escape her.

“COULD YOU KICK AS HIGH AS METTATON DID?” Papyrus continues while rubbing his chin tilted down at Toriel’s leg. “CAN YOU STILL DO IT? I MIGHT KNOW OF SOME HUMAN MARTIAL ARTS THAT MIGHT-”

Asgore pulls him upright again without saying a word. He can’t really, because whatever he would say would be the biggest mistake he ever did in his life. Agreeing or disagreeing wouldn’t matter. Even if he’d known Toriel’s flexibility back then, it would be better left unsaid.

For everyone’s sake.

“SHOULDN’T YOU BE IN POSITION, ASGORE?”

The painted, bony smile on Asgore’s lips widen into a relieved smile. “Y-yes, I should!” He motions for Sans with his hand, and just as Toriel is about to turn her head around, Sans and Asgore disappear with nothing but the breath of a relieved husband not having to answer his wife’s burning question.

A sigh so strong it could be felt around the world.

With a friendly elbow to knock the air out of Papyrus so that he can’t reiterate his question to Toriel, Undyne steps up to the Boss Monster with her brow so furrowed you could crush a walnut between the folds. 

“My robe...so...revealed...” Toriel mutters to herself. Her eyes quiver in rhythm with her mouth.

“It’s Mettaton,” Undyne reminds with a chuckle, turning to each other person in the room to get them to join in it. “He just went off script, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” the room agrees in unison.

“Off...script,” Toriel repeats under her breath.

“Yes,” the room repeats.

She nods to herself. “Yes, that’s...that’s what he did. Off script.”

This is all so goddamn amazing Aofil’s at a loss of words. They have to step aside for a moment to not let Toriel see their stifled laugh and quaking shoulders. Hearing Undyne comfort Toriel after Mettaton having pretended to be Toriel and kicking up his robe to-

Nope! Nope!

Aofil has to step outside.

They can’t… They can’t get this under…

The door closes behind them, and Aofil begs to any and all power that would listen to them that it’s sound proof.

Because they can’t hold it in any longer.

Their tail extends behind them as far as it can to keep them from falling over as their entire upper body flies forward in a throat destroying laugh. 

The entirety of Hotland laughs with them as their voice echoes on the vast cavernous space surrounding them. The heat from the lava flanking the stone platform the Lab is on has the air almost burning Aofil’s already destroyed throat as they breathe in greedily between spouts of giggles and snorts.

Aofil’s pained coughs is punishment for their laughter. Each one is like a pinch on their throat followed by a twist when they breathe in again.

They shouldn’t be laughing. They shouldn’t be enjoying Toriel’s confusion this much, but…

Their faint facade breaks immediately, and they descend once again into their tub of titter. 

Now even their tail gets into the action, smacking the ground behind them as Aofil’s arms would on their knees should they have them available to them.

Why did they put on the costume so long before Frisk gets to where Aofil’s supposed to meet them?

Just another giggle to add to their already side splitting pile of absurd amusement and baffled bursting. They don’t mean anything malicious about it all. It’s just so...relieving to them. All of the past years, with and without the monsters, even the years before the monsters even surfaced, are nothing now.

Like those years never happened, because how could the scenario of Mettaton dressing up as Toriel and kicking his leg so high up that Toriel becomes embarrassed for herself happen if all those years of hardship happened?

Or maybe…

A drop falls across Aofil’s view. Sweat? Or a tear?

Maybe it’s because of all the years of hardship that they’re laughing so hard. It’s all come ahead for them now. It’s all dawning on Aofil, all at the same time, so what can they do but laugh?

Aofil blinks, and as their eyes open, they can’t see naught but distorted colors and shapes.

Tears…

Radentim won’t be happy having to paint Aofil’s face again. He and or she has already washed his and or hers brushes and put those away in their cases.

Having to bother Radentim, asking her and or him to unpack her and or his kit again is like a corn of sand in comparison to the mountain of hardships the monsters and Aofil has had to climb, yes, but the mountain is behind them, and the sand is in their shoe.

Well, in their eye, technically, since they’re crying.

“You alright?”

Aofil turns their head over their shoulder and is greeted by the very much costumed Muffet walking up with worry planted firmly on her face. Her five eyes blink violently as she spots the tears in Aofil’s two eyes. Drops of water are shaken out from the glass in one of her hands, crashing onto the hot stone floor with loud sizzling and puffs of steam.

The shock reverberates all throughout Muffet’s many limbs, and the sympathy hits Aofil multitude because of that. “No, no,” they say while fruitlessly bending their head to try and dry off their tears on their orange striped sweater. “I’m fine, Muffet,” they say while stretching their neck as far as their skintight costume allows, which unfortunately isn’t far enough for their eye to reach their shoulder. “Just had to step outside for a moment. It’s not because of what it looks like though. I wasn’t crying.”

One of Muffet’s hands move up to indicate her own eyes. “But?” Her others begin to clench, especially around the glass of water and her wand which she carries in another hand, the crystal on which turning into a deep blue color with a worried glow to it.

“I was laughing,” Aofil explains after giving up on on trying to dry off their eyes. They should dry off from the heat surrounding them. “That’s all.”

The color on Muffet’s crystal turns a few shades lighter, but her grip remains as hard as before. “Laughing? But your tears...”

“Laughed a lot, that is,” Aofil explains with a small shake to their head. It’s not enough to get the tears away, as they’ve thickened from leaving streaks in Aofil’s yellow makeup. “Mettaton being Toriel, and Toriel reacting to it is just-”

A sneaky chortle interrupts their explanation. 

Muffet’s mouth bends to the side into a conflicted pout in response. Her feline tail bends underneath her legs, stopping just short of wrapping around her leg.

Aofil’s own tail is lifted up as they lurch forward in their haste to continue their explanation. “No, no I was laughing with them. I promise. I’m just so relieved that we’re able to do this, that we’re able to have so much fun without any swelling asterisks pulsating with each snicker and silly moment. Fun, without anything to worry about. Except Toriel seeing Mettaton kicking as if he’s trying to imprint his foot on the ceiling.”

Just a snicker for Aofil this time. They’re calming down.

Muffet nods along to that as her grip on her wand relaxes. “I’m glad too, Aofil.” It instantly becomes tight knit again as her face begins blushing.

Aofil hazards that it’s not because of the heat, even if it would’ve been a good guess. The glass of water must’ve been her excuse for the others to follow Aofil outside. It’s nice of her, even if it’s steaming away with each passing second. Aofil don’t think they should be drinking it now that it’s begun cooking.

They’re pretty sure why she came out to see them.

And Aofil is not gonna lie. It’s pretty clear to themselves that’s something’s been strung along between them and Muffet. Metaphorically, that is.

For now.

“We can talk later next week, Muffet,” they offer to her with a nod. “My place for some dinner? It’s about time I cook something, don’t you think?”

Her prosthetic cat ears pique as if a shot of electricity suddenly burst right through them. Her eyes shoot over to Aofil, and she retracts her upper lip once she realizes that she’s caught. She can’t be used to being the insect in the spider’s web, so her reaction is understandable. It has her mouth moving in all shorts of shapes as she fails to find one that’s comfortable.

Her fangs push gently against her chin again…

Those dimples…

“I’d...I’d love to, Aofil.” Muffet averts her head while putting the back of one of her hands up to her mouth. “Ahuhu~” she giggles with fluster burning hotter on her cheeks than the flowing lava snaking along around the rocky plateau. “I’ll bring with me some wine and cheese.”

“From the Crystal Cavern?” Aofil pries curiously.

“I’m afraid that I don’t have anything as fancy as what Mettaton gave me on our first-” She clears her throat. “During Mettaton’s show.”

“As long as you bring your company, Muffet,” Aofil assures with a smile. “That will be more than fine with me.”

It’s comforting saying something and feeling how much you actually mean it. Aofil can’t help but smile at that feeling bubbling inside them more than the water in Muffet’s hand.

Should they be worried that she’s still holding it?

“Fuhuhuhu~”

Guess not.

A gentle silence falls between the two, with only the calm bobbing of the lava and the faint hum of the Lab making itself known.

“We should probably head inside,” Aofil suggests after catching the silence with their ears. The heat is starting to get to them, which isn’t the most ideal of situations. “It’s still Frisk’s birthday, after all.”

Muffet nods. “It is, but first.” She walks up to Aofil and tilts their head to the side. With another hand she carefully dries off some yellow painted tears and flick them away. They sizzle away as they land on some hot rocks.

Aofil blinks to get the feeling of Muffet’s claw away from underneath their eyes. “Thanks.”

She drags a smile and turn to head back inside the Lab. Aofil hangs back for a couple of seconds as they still feel the roughness of Muffet’s finger on their eyelids.

Everything they teased Tylior about is flooding back to them now, along with a burning question more hot than anything Hotland could ever produce.

Did Aofil do it because they weren’t sure how they felt about Muffet?

Now that they think about it… Yeah, that must be why. All the way starting from when Tylior first introduced Sevoltne, Aofil’s been...jealous? 

No, not jealous. Curious, maybe. Intrigued? With Muffet they’re definitely intrigued, that’s a certain. Even from the first time they met her dressed as that one anime character. Not the being trapped and scared in the dark part. More the candle lit dinner part.

She was confident in herself, confident in her craft, and still is. However, there’s a part of...not vulnerability, but more...sensitivity with her patrons.

Or maybe that’s just towards Aofil…

Yeah, it’s just towards Aofil. From what Aofil’s seen, her other patrons are more like flies to her. 

Still, her confidence, laughter, fang dimples...

Guess Aofil’s no better than Tylior. Boy is he gonna enjoy shooting all those things Aofil said back to them.

Oh woe, what horrible thing to realize.

And even worse!

Aofil squandered asking Muffin about…things! Maybe Muffet’s favorite flowers? Favorite wine, cheese, clothes, anything?

Aofil chuckles again, this time over themselves. They’ve never felt life this before! This tingling sensation when thinking about someone else.

It’s not only Frisk that’s growing up today.

Aofil should’ve seen it coming, honestly. Muffet did it way before them. Although, she has more eyes in which to see, so that might explain it.

They should probably head back inside now before Muffet has to come out again and ask a second time.

The cool air of from inside the Lab breezes by Aofil as the door opens after registering their presence. They shiver for a second, shaking even their tail which they quickly drag out of the way of the closing door.

“You have some,” Undyne points out while flickering her fingers in front of her face. “Sweat?”

“Yeah, sweat,” Aofil answers after clearing their throat. It’s still a bit soar from Hotland. “Had to step out for a moment.” They turn their head to the computer screen. “Did I miss anything?”

The computer shows Frisk just about to open the large ornate doors leading out of the Ruins. They halt for a moment as the flat of their palms touch against the purple stone, and they remove their hands with a heavy sigh.

“They have their sweater,” Toriel thinks out loud. “Shouldn’t be the cold...”

“FRISK ALMOST FORGOT THEIR HAT!” Papyrus points out with a heroic throw of his fur covered index finger with matching claw. His proud stance has his ears flopping behind his head. “HOW CRUEL A FATE WE JUST BARELY DODGED!”

Frisk turns back down the long hallway.

After dragging a snivel from the sudden and vast temperature gap making itself known in Aofil’s nose, they turn to Toriel, who meets their inquisitive look. Aofil has to drag yet another snivel before their runny nose has the yellow paint seeping into their mouth. “It’s a good thing Asriel has a jacket on him. Otherwise he might catch a cold standing in the snow waiting so long.”

“Asgore though,” Toriel retorts with a snicker. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing like this.”

Oh yeah, Asgore.

Yeah, he’s gonna be having some heavy snivels himself after today. Some royal, kingly snivels that are gonna be heard throughout the street. Sure did so when he had hay fever last month or so. His sneezes had the windows in Aofil’s house almost shatter from the loud and intense sound. It’s a miracle the rest of his family can still hear things.

“Forgot my...” Frisk explains as they pass Mettaton heading back through the basement hallway. “Forgot my hat. Sorry,” they apologize sheepishly while indicating to their hat-less head.

They squeeze past him on the stairs leading up into Toriel’s house with another quick apology and mount their ghostly hat just as he takes the last step up on the stairs.

“How does it fit?” Frisk asks while running their finger around the ethereal rim of their hat. Mettaton smiles, and tilts Frisk’s hat just a bit to the side before retreating his hand, satisfied. He takes a bow. “Good luck in your travels, no longer small one.”

Toriel’s hand move up to her mouth.

“Good luck in your caretaking,” Frisk bows back, “Queen Toriel.”

“My child...” Toriel whispers.

Mettaton steps aside and waves Frisk ahead down the stairs. “Do you want some food to take along your journey?”

Frisk halts on the middle plateau and shift their head up, catching their hat just before it falls off. “I have a suspicion that I’ll be eating soon again,” they shoot over with a knowing wink.

“Oh darling child,” Mettaton flaunts while leaning on his elbows on top of the guardrail. “How wise you’ve grown.”

With a last wave, and a blown kiss from Mettaton, Frisk heads down the stairs again.

“You haven’t lost a single determined step since last time, my child,” Toriel whispers to the screen, her hand moving quietly from her mouth to her chest. “I’m so proud.”

“Frisk is the single constant in our bundled equation,” Aofil says with a nod to Toriel, who gives one back.

“They came back to me before exiting to the Underground,” Toriel remembers with a reserved nostalgia weaved into her words. “I was tending the flowers when I heard their steps. It took a while for them to muster up the courage, but eventually they came and sat down next to me. I told them...”

Toriel blinks away a tear.

“I told them again to be strong. They nodded, but stayed for a bit with me to help with my gardening. We found a snail, and I recited some facts about it to them as they listened eagerly. I thought...I thought that they might’ve changed their mind, and had chosen to stay.”

Frisk again makes their way down the long purple hallway, now with their ghostly hat slightly tilted on its side. Each echoing step they take has Toriel flinching as the sound sneaks in underneath her tucked in ears.

“They still have the same way of walking. It sounds almost exactly the same as it did back then. Hearing it now though,” Toriel says under her breath. “There’s no fear in their step. There’s no hesitant pauses. None of the worry what awaits after they open that door.” Toriel motions for everyone to lean in closer. “Listen.”

A collective shuffle emerges for a split second as the costumed friends and family lean in towards the speakers.

“You hear that?” Toriel asks, dragging a proud snivel in the meantime. “That excited gait?”

Yeah, now that Toriel mentions it… It’s almost as if Frisk is skipping forward. They’re still walking, but it’s barely so. They’re strutting, excited and eager to see what’s beyond the door!

“My child,” Toriel repeats with her eyes glittering from the light of the computer screen. “I’m so proud to be your mother. I love you with all my soul, Frisk. Thank you for being my child, my child.”

She scoffs, knocking away the thick tears that have been building up in her eyes. 

“Guess I do say that phrase a lot,” she chuckles. “Forgive this old Boss Monster, Frisk. She’s too happy to see you this determined to have fun. It reminds her that the Underground is behind her, child, and that everything that has happened after the Barrier broke is real, and not something an old self exiled queen has imagined all these years.”

Frisk stops at the ornate double door.

“A THREEFOLD CHEER FOR FRISK! HIP HIP!”

They check over their shoulder.

“Hurray!” cheers the Lab.

Frisk drags a smile.

“HIP HIP!”

And turn their head back to the door.

“Hurray!”

They put their hands on the ornate door.

“HIP HIP!”

And push it open!

“Hurray!”


	30. Hairy bones

“Remember when I said that it might’ve been a good idea to remove the camera in the bushes?” Aofil asks as the morphed visage of Frisk’s face is pressed up close against the lens of the camera hidden in the bushes just outside the doors to the Ruins. Would’ve been a good idea to remove that one beforehand.

The Lab is greeted to the wide and distorted smile of Frisk chuckling to themselves, each small shake from their chortle has their form morph, almost grotesquely, as the camera attempts to track and refocus.

“You can almost see the hairs in their nose,” Undyne points out and immediately after regretting that she did.

“Skipping a bit with your toothbrushing,” Toriel says in a disappointed hum. “Hopefully not something you’ve gotten from your brother, child,” she continues as she crosses her human-like arms. “You’ve just ruined your excuse that it’s because of Asgore’s tea, young human.”

Aofil’s not really sure what to make of Toriel sinister snicker. They’ve not heard her don it before, and in tandem with her now red eyes is bringing back the first thought Aofil had when they first saw the horned visage of Toriel and Asgore.

Devil’s wife, laughing at the rotting of the fallen human’s teeth. A large and valuable bargaining chip that she’s not gonna let squander. 

Her wig and rolled up ears above a pair of plastic human ones is a bit incongruous to the whole devil symbolism. Quite silly, simply.

Delightfully devilish, Toriel.

Aofil runs their tongue outside their own teeth. They’ve regained some glisten and white now that they’ve decided to go back to Golden Flower tea instead of coffee, but they’re not gonna fool themselves that their teeth are as white as the bouncing fur poking out of Toriel’s glove as she snickers to herself.

Maybe Aofil should ask Alphys if she can whip up a toothbrush to help.

Aofil doesn’t have the time to catch themselves actually wanting to ask Alphys for more robotic appliances in their home as a loud “Psst!” emerges from the computer’s speakers. Frisk winks at the camera. “I’ll play along. Don’t worry,” they say with a smile widened greatly by the lens. “Thank you, all of you.”

Heh.

Good, kid.

“You too, Frisk,” Aofil wishes back at the computer screen as Frisk heads off further into the snowy corridor flanked on either side by the dark silhouette of the surrounding forest.

“M-maybe we should’ve moved the camera like you said, Aofil,” Alphys sighs through her face panel. “If they didn’t know before they know now that we’re watching.”

“Nah,” Aofil retorts with a quick frown and shake of their head. “Pretty sure they had it figured out the moment Mettaton revealed himself. He kinda burst through the fourth wall, so to speak. Kicked a great big hole in it and threw his arms, and legs, up in the air.”

The leg addendum has Toriel muttering for a short second.

“A bit like h-he did back in the day,” Alphys says under her breath. “A bit too close to the-”

“Alphee,” Undyne states, interrupting Alphys with a figurative raised index finger.

Alphys nods. “Y-yes, t-thanks, Undyne.”

“Always, Alphys.”

The two smile warmly at each other.

“NO!”

Which turn into startled scowls.

“THEY MISSED THE STICK!” Papyrus makes it known the horrific truth with a mortified shout. He follows the large stick placed a bit too obviously across the snowy path. Frisk merely skipped over it, and as the overhead camera pans with them, the stick disappears out of sight. Papyrus’ finger continues along the wall to the left of the computer screen. “HOW WILL ASRIEL KNOW WHEN TO REVEAL HIMSELF?”

“Human,” Asriel says as he reveals himself by stepping out of the tree line.

Guess like that.

Frisk’s shoulder begin to heave violently as they stand at the lip of a wooden bridge with a large gate with incredibly wide bars stretching across it.

“Don’t you know how to greet a new pal?” Asriel continues from behind Frisk’s heavily bobbing form. “Turn around and shake my hand.”

Frisk takes a glance over their shoulder.

And immediately folds in half.

Asriel puts the flats of his palms up into the air as he shrugs. “Heheh… The old bridge of folding laughter trick.”

“They shouldn’t really be rolling around in the snow like that,” Toriel comments worryingly. “Can you tell Grillby to prepare some warm blankets once Frisk arrives at Snowdin, Aofil?”

“I’m more worried about their inability breathe currently,” they reply, which might not have been the best thing to say at this moment, as Toriel snaps her head back towards the computer, her wig following along shortly afterwards as if spun on the top of a spinning top. “I’m kidding,” Aofil says hurriedly with a quick lurch forward of their head to get back Toriel’s attention. “Was just a joke.”

“Right...”

Quite the pair of lungs in Frisk, to be honest. They show no sign of their laughter slowing down even the slightest.

Asriel shoots a quick look at the camera while nodding his head towards his wailing sibling curling up into a giggling ball. “Anyways,” he says after clearing his throat. “You’re a human, right?” As a courtesy, Asriel takes Frisk’s hat in his hand before they crush it by their wringing and guffawing. “That’s hilarious.”

He hangs it on one of his horn as if on a hat stand.

“I’m Sans,” he introduces while offering to help Frisk up on their feet. “Sans the skeleton,” he introduces properly as he lifts up a still chuckling Frisk up. He tilts his head down so that Frisk can take the hat off and place it back on their own head.

“Quite the furry looking skeleton you are, Sans,” they notice as they tilt their hat down as Mettaton suggested.

“Heh,” he shrugs, causing Frisk to laugh again. “Can’t fault me for being beautiful. Funny thing, actually, I’m supposed to be on watch for humans right now.”

“Is that so?” Frisk challenges after getting their laughter back in control, even though just for a moment.

Asriel brushes off a couple of mustard stains off his white shirt. “But...y’know… I don’t really care about capturing anybody.”

“Now your brother-”

“Now my brother, Papyrus,” Asriel almost shouts to overtake Frisk’s voice. “He’s a human-hunting fanatic!”

Frisk turns their head around.

“Hey, actually,” Asriel still continues. “I think that’s him over there.” He lifts his finger and hovers it right next to Frisk’s cheek.

“I don’t see-” Frisk begins smugly as they turn their head back, only to get a bony claw poking into their cheek. They shoot Asriel a pair of lowered brows, but he just shrugs it off.

“I have an idea.” Asriel throws his arm out towards the gate thingy behind Frisk. “Go through this gate thingy.” Frisk ain’t gonna fall for the same trick twice though, and they keep their head facing Asriel’s painted smile. “Yeah, go right through.”

Frisk shakes their head slowly.

“My bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone.”

Frisk takes a step back, still with their eyes locked hard on Asriel’s. He follows along until the path turns wider.

“Quick,” he warns while spinning Frisk around with their shoulders, “behind that conveniently-shaped lamp!”

“Is that the same one that was there when Frisk first went through?” Aofil asks their surrounding monsters, their furrowed forehead mirroring Frisk’s in both depth and color. “Because it’s a bit too small for them now.”

Frisk scratches their cheek as they’re quite befuddled how to even begin folding themselves behind the no-longer-conveniently-shaped lamp. They lift their knee to their torso, but that just… 

Hm…

“They’re not as flexible as a Moldessa,” Aofil feels that they have to inform the monsters as Frisk bends their arm underneath their knee. They throw an aggressive nod at the computer screen. “Look!”

Frisk falls over on their side as their attempt to knot their limbs into shape proves fruitless. Their hat ploffs gently onto their face, and they sigh through it.

Asgore takes a step back out of view as Asriel shoos him away. Frisk needs a minute or so to figure this out, it seems. After managing to untie their limbs, Frisk throws their hands out at Asriel, who puts one of his own out of his jacket’s pocket and on his chest.

“I’m not the one about to be captured,” he defends in the same way the gate-thingy defended against intruders. 

He’s enjoying this way too much.

“They don’t seem to be giving up,” MK notices. “Not a lot they’ve given up on in life, to be honest. They’ve weathered worse things than this.”

Frisk again trips on their own swiveled legs and awkwardly bent arms, falling face first into the snow with their hat sailing quietly behind and landing just as softly. A puff of snow cascades into the air as they drag a determined huff.

“I DO WONDER IF FRISK COULD’VE HIDDEN BEHIND THAT LAMP BACK IN THEIR YOUNGER DAYS!” Papyrus thinks out loud loudly. “IT WOULD EXPLAIN WHY THEY ALWAYS ELUDED ME WHEN WE PLAYED HIDE AND SEEK!”

“That was more you refusing to look behind the curtains despite their shoes being clearly visible though,” Undyne teases with a chuckle.

“BUT I WASN’T SEEKING FOR THEIR SHOES, WERE I?” Papyrus shoots back.

“He has a point,” Aofil fuels with an approving nod and challenging look over to Undyne.

“You stay out of this,” she retorts quickly.

Aofil lifts up their foot in response. “Because I don’t have any shoes on?”

Before Undyne can once again make their disapproval heard loud and clear, Toriel hushes her and points towards the computer screen. Frisk has given up on trying to fold themselves behind the lamp, and is now in the process of making a snowman roughly their size. 

Roughly as in only-a-bit-convenient shaped.

Once Frisk manages to roll up enough snow, Asriel moseys on over and draws three horizontal lines on the head of the snowman. Two for the eyes and one for the mouth. Frisk leans around from behind the head and shoots a disapproving look to their brother, who adds a couple more lines to the snowman’s forehead.

“I thought I was supposed to be hidden, Sans the skeleton?” Frisk accuses.

“You will be if you bring your head back behind the snowman.”

“Frisk is gonna throw the head of the snowman at Asriel once Asgore’s scene is over,” Aofil remarks. “You can see it in Frisk’s eyes.”

The rest of the monsters turn their perplexed heads towards Aofil.

“You can,” they reiterate with a single nod. “Or I can, since I’m a human,” they try again.

That seems to have gotten the message across, and the monsters nod to themselves while mumbling that it sounds true to their ears.

Dear oh dear...

Why does Aofil love them so?

“Sup, bro?” Asriel asks as Asgore comes strutting in from the right on the monitor. His cape flutters with each proud and swaggering step fueled by annoyance.

“You know what’s up, brother!” he shouts back accusingly. The boom of his voice is still enough to rattle both the speakers in the Lab, and the spheres of snow of the snowman despite him pitching it up a few octaves.

Aofil’s not gonna be worried about their sinuses being clogged anytime soon if Asgore continues with that voice. It’s already beginning to loosen. “You got a tissue?” they decide to ask Toriel.

“It’s been eight days,” Asgore continues while puffing out his chest, stretching his foam breastplate to the brink of bursting, “and you still haven’t recalibrated... Your. Puzzles!”

Frisk puts a bit more snow on the neck of their shielding snowman before it begins to collapse. 

Aofil only now realizes that they don’t have any hands to take Toriel’s offered tissue that she absentmindedly offers over her shoulder.

Why does they always keep on forgetting about that small detail?

“You just hang around outside your station! What are you even doing?!?”

The head of the snowman falls off. A wet crash rings out as it lands, and the dented visage crumbles beyond recognition. Asriel and Asgore turn their collective heads over to the grotesquely mangled head lying still on the frozen ground.

Snow to snow.

“Yooo! Cool!” MK shouts with eyes widened in awe. “Live decapitation!”

Toriel’s harsh and glaring look has him cowering as if his head is up next to be lost. He’s wise in being afraid.

Aofil wouldn’t put it past Toriel after MK’s comment.

Frisk timidly replaces the snowman’s head with their own. They roll their hand to motion Asgore and Asriel to continue their spiel.

“Staring at this...” Asriel beings again slowly. He points through the pocket in his jacket towards Frisk. “...Snowman. It’s really cool. Do you wanna look?”

Frisk again has to hold onto their snowy body as Asgore stamps his boot into the ground, violently shaking everything in the near vicinity. Avalanches of snow fall from the treetops, throwing up clouds of glittering snow as they torrent into the ground. “No!” he shouts, finally knocking over the not-so-conveniently-shaped-any-longer lamp. It lands with a petered splat.

“I don’t have time for that!!” Asgore continues while continuing his stomping. The picture on the computer screen begins to wobble as the resonance begins to build up. “What if a human comes through here!?!”

“I want to be ready!!!” is the last the camera picks up before popping loose from its mount and falling down. Streaks of green, black, and white whirl past it until it plops into a snow mound at the base of the tree it was mounted in. It’s still pointing towards the stage despite its many rotations.

“Lucky,” Aofil voices. 

“I should’ve closed my eyes,” Alphys laments as she puts her hand on her stomach. She’s handed a glass of water from Sans which she gladly accepts.

Asgore’s stomping calms down a bit. “I will be the one!” he also shouts a bit quieter. “I must be the one! I will capture a human! Then, I, the great Papyrus...”

Papyrus drags an awestruck sigh hearing Asgore say his catchphrase.

“Will get all the things I utterly deserve!” Asgore proudly proclaims with a hand firmly pressed against his chest. His painted smile is lit up like the midday sun, and his small cape flows as if carried on the winds of glory. “Respect...”

“RECOGNITION...” Papyrus mouths along.

“I will finally be able to join the Royal Guard!”

“I DID!”

“People will. Ask. To. Be. My. Friend!”

Papyrus glances over his party of friends all nodding at him, and he drags a very happy sob.

“I will bathe in a shower of kisses every morning.”

“I...um...yeah...hm…,” the friends hum in unison.

“Bathe in a shower?” MK then thinks out loud.

“WE HAD A COMBINED ONE IN SNOWDIN!” Papyrus explains.

MK nods. “Right, gotcha.”

“Hmm...” Asriel pretends to think, seemingly unfazed by his father’s pretend tantrum. “Maybe this...” He walks over and puts the lamp back up on its conveniently-shaped feet. “Maybe this lamp will help you?”

“Sans!!” Asgore shouts as he begins stamping his foot again, knocking over the lamp another time. “You are not helping! You lazybones!! All you do is sit and bone...boondooo...” He sneakily pulls on his mitten while narrowing his eyes down on a note stuck underneath. “Boondoggle! You get lazier and lazier every day!!!”

“And what about the shed you promised you’d have repainted by the summer’s end, my dear King?” Toriel mutters out in a chuckle.

“Hey, take it easy,” Asriel replies to Asgore tapping his foot impatiently. “Befur you know it, I’ll be done with the puzzles.”

The eyes in the Lab turn to the real Sans. Or one of the two real Sanses, judging by Asriel’s quips.

“Don’t be so furious,” Asriel finishes off.

“prince wanted something new,” Sans defends.

Sure…

“Sans!” Asgore shouts after a second of confusion.

“Come on,” Asriel smiles back. “You’re smiling.”

“I am and I hate it!” Asgore sighs, the wind from it flapping the hood on Asriel’s blue jacket. “Why does someone as great as me have to do so much just to get some recognition.”

“Wow, sounds like you’re really working yourself...”

Again Sans is bombarded with pairs of eyes.

“Down to the bone.”

The eyes narrow, perplexed.

“couldn’t figure out something for that one.”

“Ugh!!!” Asgore throws out a bit too harshly for his throat. He coughs a couple of times from it. “I will attend to my puzzles. As for your work? Put a little more effort into it. Cartilage wasn’t built in a day, but it was built with effort!!!!”

Wait a second…

“WHAT?” Papyrus asks the baffled faces staring at him, including his own brother. “I CAN MAKE JOKES TOO!” he reminds his friends as Asgore wholeheartedly laughs in the background. “ASGORE ASKED SO NICELY! HOW COULD I SAY NO?”

Fair enough.

After a last laugh, Asgore exits the stage, hurrying off towards his next position with a thick cloud of snow following his hurried gait.

“I do believe it would be best if you got into your position now, Aofil,” Toriel says over her shoulder before turning to Sans. “So that Sans’ free to move Asgore and Asriel where they’re needed.”

“Sure,” Aofil shrugs. “I’ll get going.” They lean their shoulder down to Sans. “Anytime, bud.”

Sans puts a hand on Aofil’s shoulder, and a moment later the two find themselves in the middle of Snowdin. Less than a moment after that, the biting cold makes itself known to Aofil, and they bless the thick sweater that they’re wearing.

“Before you leave,” Aofil says as Sans let’s go of their shoulder. He tilts his head up curiously. “When you said that you planted the prince before?”

“yes?”

“Was that to gauge if they would reacted to Flowey?”

Sans’ head tilts to the side.

A very guilty tilt.

“might be best if i don’t answer that, to be honest. you’re looking at me like i’ve already have.”

That Aofil does.

They’re quickly left alone as evident by a whirl of snow from where Sans just stood dancing up their body and settling just inside Aofil’s collar.

And Aofil can’t dig it out since they don’t have use of their hands right now.

Dammit…

“Could you...” Aofil tries with one of the puppets, but they don’t get a response back. Guess they haven’t been activated just yet.

Come to think of it, it’s really pretty dang freaky standing alone in a town square with hunched over monsters around them.

Actually, it’s absolutely enormously freaky!

Aofil’s gonna head inside Grillby’s for them moment. Gotta get those blankets, right?

They hurry towards the small taverns as if their tail was just set on fire.

Inside, Grillby pauses his cleaning of a glass for a brief moment as Aofil enters with hurried steps. They check around for any other visitors, but the tavern is empty. Same as the bar, bar Grillby.

“You’re you, right?” Aofil asks as they walk up to the flaming monster. “Not a puppet?”

Grillby raises a fiery eyebrow as he run his eyes up and down Aofil. With a slow push, he readjusts his glasses. “Not since the last time I checked, no,” he says. His voice is a bit more...normal than Aofil would expect it to be. Not as crackly as his hair or as hypnotically dancing as the flames making up his form. “Anything I can get you, human?”

“Toriel asked me to ask you for a couple of warm blankets,” Aofil relays as they jump up on a bar stool, using their tail to find balance on it. “For Frisk. I guess a couple for Asgore and Asriel as well. Toriel is probably tearing the hair in her wig out for not asking me to ask you for one for those two too.”

“I have a couple at the ready,” Grillby informs with a quick nod to the kitchen. “I’ve had my business here for quite a while. Been prepared against the cold for just as long.”

Good to hear.

“Anything you want yourself, human?” 

“I can take a cup of tea, if you have,” Aofil orders with a smile. “Need to calm my throat before I begin with the acting.”

Grillby reaches behind him for the teapot already simmering calmly on a small fire. “This isn't the first time they've done something like this, by the way," he informs as he places the hot tea in front of Aofil. 

Again, why does Aofil always forget they can't use their arms... 

"How do you mean?" they ask to divert attention away from their disarmed situation. 

"There was this party they had a handful of autumns ago. The Prince was covered in black with a minty green robe and pointy hat. Something he’d figured out through some game he and his friends were playing during after hours in school. Cards, chess, or something." 

"Ok,” Aofil says while leaning in their lips against the lip of their teacup for a warm kiss.

"Frisk donned a ragged blue set of armor. They'd grown their hair out for some reason and it hang like disheveled drapes over their eyes." 

"Alright." 

"Toriel came over to my tavern up on the Surface to buy some food since she'd spent many hours getting the black out of Asriel's fur.”

“Did he use a dye meant for human hair or something?”

Grillby nods while blowing his flaming cheeks. “That he did.”

Oh boy…

“Toriel wouldn't say how many hours she struggled with it, but she did buy herself a drink that she sipped on for a while as she lamented what had happened earlier before heading home with the food."

Aofil's eyes widen, the yellow paint around their eyes stretching uncomfortably. "I see..." 

"Strangest was Undyne though," Grillby says with a hot exhale. "She wore a police uniform."

That doesn't... 

“With another eye." 

Oh... “Did it move?”

“I really wish it didn’t.” Grillby inspects the cleaned glass in his hand. “The things that scientist have made," he says under his breath. 

"Alphys?" Aofil shoots over, even though it's probably better if they didn't. 

"Yes, Alphys. Won’t stop going on about how she can help improve my business. Make it more efficient."

“If I had my hands free I’d raise my cup to that.”

Grillby snickers, a sharp orange line dragging across his lower face. “I appreciate the thought.”

“And I’m guessing when you got the question to attend Frisk’s birthday here that scene you just spoke of came rushing back to you?” Aofil pries while bending their neck down for another drink.

“Can’t be weirder than having the Queen come in and order a drink with hands and arms colored gray, sitting down with her head resting inside her palm, mumbling about how in the world she’s gonna get the bathtub cleaned up.”

“Did her hand leave an imprint on her cheek as she removed it afterwards?” Aofil asks with bathed breath. Please, please, please, let it have happened!

Grillby breathes in for dramatic effect. 

That bastard.

“Yes,” he finally says.

Yes! Oh! Perfect!

Aofil’s giggling has their tail pushing down onto the floorboards below to keep them from falling over.

The front door shakes, and through a nearby window Aofil sees Asriel and Asgore hurry along further into the town. They also spot the nearby puppets waking up and going on about their programmed business.

“You should probably head out now, human,” Grillby suggests. “I’ll keep your tea warm.”

“Thanks,” Aofil says as they jump down. “Gonna take a moment for me to get into character now.”

“Good luck with it,” Grillby cheers.

Aofil will give him some tip once their arms are back in their use.

Alright. Now to get into character and-

The door that Aofil opens flings into Frisk, and they stumble back while keeping one hand on their hat.

“Shi-” Aofil clears their throat. “Yooo!” they begin. “You’re a kid too, right?”

Frisk freezes. Aofil’s pitched up voice hits them harder than what the door into Grillby’s just did, and they blink.

Just blink.

“Oh...my...god...”


	31. Filibuster of puppets

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

Frisk’s greedy inhale is like the desperate call of a sea of damned souls singing their lament, ringing out through the large cavern as if summoning more kin to their never ending torment.

Their laughter is a bit incongruous to that analogy though, but there’s really no other way Aofil’s ears can paint the horrible gasp the wriggling laughter machine just pulled.

Seems that they calmed down a bit now though. “Yooo! You done, fellow kid?” Aofil asks with a slight tilt of their head to test.

“Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

Guess not.

Aofil blows through their lips as they lean their head inside Grillby’s again to check the clock.

Alright, Frisk’s laughter it’s getting quite silly now. It’s been like five minutes since Aofil bumped into them! Aofil drags their head out of the warm tavern again, shaking it in sync with the swaying door.

Pretty sure Grillby had a question he wanted to ask, probably even multiple ones, but Aofil wouldn’t hear any with Frisk’s current howling of their seemingly endless amusement.

Endless with breaks for breathing, that is.

Still rolling around in the cold snow to boot. Barely able to breathe, snow covering their face, gifted hat almost getting crushed as they roll around. They’ve made what can only be described as a trench in the snow by now. A hole, almost. 

A snow sarcophagus.

Although its inhabitant is very much alive. Heaving in air, and heaving it out even harder in unbelievably unfiltered laughter. Just...pure unadulterated guffawing.

Unadult alright, pretty childish now at this point, or something. Aofil can’t really think clearly with Frisk’s exasperated exhales occupying all vacant space in their ears. Not that they’re annoyed or anything. They fully well knew that Frisk would have a reaction akin to this.

As much as this though?

That they didn’t plan for.

Had it been up to them they’d let Frisk laugh it off, even if it would take the rest of the day if they continue like they are doing right now. Aofil would have time to get into that ‘I Woke Up Human’ sequel they’ve been putting off for quite a while now, even if they’d be forced to flip the pages with their mouth.

Or tail?

Thing is though, Aofil knows that a certain Boss Monster mom is watching Frisk rolling around in the wet snow in clothes already wet and cold from the previous time they flopped down onto the slippery slit. Toriel was quite worried about Frisk catching a cold before, so she’s probably already on her way with fireballs blossoming in either hand to warm up and dry off Frisk.

Aofil has to be careful not to make themselves imagine Toriel dressed up as them running with-

No. No. No!

Stop. Before they join in with Frisk.

Aofil checks over their shoulder towards Waterfall, but there’s no bright orange glimmer hurrying close.

Yet.

That won’t do though if Toriel comes running in with manifested motherly warmth in either hand.

It’ll ruin the surprise!

Besides, there’s a monster that can make drying fire much closer. Just behind one door that’s less than a shoulder’s width away from Aofil’s, to be exact. Alas, they’re not quite handy at carrying at the moment.

Hm…

Aofil’s tail produces soft pats as it bounces gently behind them as they think. 

Wait… Oh for-

The patting stops as Aofil cranes their neck up in an annoyed groan.

Constant aloofness! All the damn time from Aofil today. Maybe their costume is a bit tight around their head or something?

Curiously, they angle their tail up behind them. It does look like it could hold Frisk’s weight. Maybe? Aofil tries to bend it into the shape of a lasso...sorta. A hook might be enough? As long as they can get some form of grip it should be fine.

Them inspecting their tail has Frisk catching a second...no...third? Must be fourth wind at this point. Their howl once again has the puppets in the village turning their collective heads, and once again a cold shiver runs up Aofil’s spine as they see the unanimous turning. One or two would’ve been fine, but all of them? 

Aofil’s tail shivers to boot.

Even if they’re not wearing any.

Or does...whatever it is called that they’re wearing on their human feet to make them look like large yellow scaly paws count as boots?

“Tail!” Frisk shouts.

Oh right, getting Frisk inside before hypothermia sets in.

It’s the only word they’ve said properly in the span of their laughter. A good sign that they did, Aofil feels. Means they still have oxygen to spare. It’s a good thing Frisk has done their workout with Undyne or else they’d be unconscious. Blue like Undyne, but not in the good way.

Maybe Aofil should hurry up with getting Frisk inside before Toriel’s mom senses gives her the power to read minds.

Carefully, Aofil angles their tail next to Frisk’s leg. They move their hips as if trying to fit into a pair of jeans a couple of sizes too small, and in turn their tail begins to bend in the vague shape of a hook. It’s quite difficult with Frisk kicking their leg with each chortle and fit, but steadily enough, Aofil manages to encircle their tail around Frisk’s leg.

“Sorry if it feels a bit weird,” they apologize before taking a timid step to see if their tail’s grip will hold. Might be a bit of chafing on Frisk’s leg, but it should be fine. “Lift your head for me, please,” they ask their snickering baggage. “So that you don’t hurt yourself too much on the step.”

“Back so...” Grillby’s words trail off like a burning torch being submerged into water as he spots Aofil struggling with the door with their shoulder with Frisk in their tail’s tow. The color of his fire changes, turning a bit more brown as he removes his glasses to clean them off.

Doesn’t change the fact that Aofil is dragging in a howling Frisk through his front door using a prosthetic tail while painted and costumed like MK.

Grillby cleans his glasses one more time in another futile attempt to get more clarity.

“The blankets?” Aofil asks while nodding behind them to Frisk in their infinite laughter.

A few seconds of nothing but Frisk’s giggling and greedy gasps pass before Grillby remounts his glasses and heads into the kitchen. Faint questioning muttering can be heard along with shuffling of cloth.

Aofil unhooks their tail and lets Frisk’s foot drop to the floor. “I’ll get you some dry clothes as well,” they inform as they pass by the choking head. “We’ll resume when you feel you’re finished.”

“Y-y-eah!” Frisk manages to squeeze out of them in between their heavy fits. Their fist slam against the floorboards as they roll over to their side with their other hand pressed hard on their stomach.

And then, a silence falls like a dropped boulder dislodged from the cavern ceiling.

Is Frisk calming down?

No, they’re not. They were just breathing in deeply.

Aofil halts at the front door when they hear Grillby come back from the kitchen. “I’m just gonna see if I can’t get Frisk some dry clothes,” they explain as Grillby begins laying out the blankets for Frisk. He extends a flaming thumb, and Aofil heads outside.

They stop before taking their first step back out into the glistening and white landscape stretching into a dark horizon.

Oh…

Frisk’s hat. Somehow it managed to keep itself from getting rolled over. Looks to be intact, but Aofil’s expertise in ethereally constructed accessories might not be enough to properly assess the damage should there be any.

It’s standing up on its own, so Aofil’s gonna hazard a guess that it’s fine. They’ve gambled on worse things and come out on top.

Like how they’re gonna bring the hat back to Frisk.

“This too,” Aofil informs as they whip their tail inside the tavern with Frisk’s hat on the tip. It lands softly just next to Frisk shaking torso.

Damn, Aofil’s gonna miss having this tail.

Might as well use it as much as possible now that they can!

They shut the door to Grillby’s with it as they head out into Snowdin again.

Oh yes, that felt good.

“Isn’t my little Cinnamon just the cutest?” wonders one of the puppets in the form of a bunny monster as Aofil approaches it. The bunny smiles down at a smaller bunny in a leash, squeaking cutely as it bounces.

“Yeah,” Aofil agrees absently. “Listen, whoever it is closest the controls?”

The bunny’s mouth moves as if possessed before opening unnaturally wide for a second. Unhinged is too small a word for how it stretches the skin and fur around the mouth, as the metallic skull inside moves without concordance to the skin outside it, proving that the creature is not one of dust and magic, but of disjointed-

“Y-yes? Alphys here,” the puppet speaks with a smile that’s sudden and sending ripples throughout fur of the head, ending in a sinister dance of the two long ears stretching high like antennas.

Creepy as all hell…

“Could you send Sans or maybe Riverperson over with some dry clothes for Frisk?” Aofil asks after shaking the creepy feeling off. They lift up their tail behind their back, bending the tip to point over towards Grillby’s. “They have a couple of blankets around them at the moment, but I really think they should use a new set of dry clothes, just in case. They’re gonna head through Waterfall before they reach Hotland, right? I know they didn’t get a cold when they did it the first time, but this time around they’ve been rolling around in the snow for the better part of their journey.”

The mouth of the bunny monster again twists and turns unnaturally as the microphone is moved over to someone else in the Lab.

“How are they?” the bunny puppet wonders worryingly. “How’s Frisk? Any fever?”

Not that Aofil would be able to feel for it, and they might be racist yet again, but Grillby might be a bit biased when it comes to heat to tell if Frisk has a fever too. “They’re fine at the moment,” Aofil decides it’s best to say, “um...”

“It’s Toriel,” the bunny informs with a quick nod.

“Right, Toriel.” Aofil should’ve guessed it was, to be honest. “Well, Frisk’s laughing,” they continue while looking over their shoulder, “but you probably already know that.”

“We saw on the computer screen, yes,” the bunny again nods. “And heard!” it suddenly shouts with a different inflection to its voice. Aofil takes a step back in reflex. “Yes, and heard,” the puppet acknowledges with Toriel’s soft manner of speech again.

Wait...heard?

How much did they hear? More importantly, how much did Toriel hear? And much did she hear from inside Grillby’s?

“What I spoke to Grillby about...” Aofil prefaces while dragging air through their clenched teeth. How are they gonna play this? And why are they thinking about it after they opened their mouth?

“Did you speak to Grillby about something?” the puppet wonders with one of its ears bending down. “We were monitoring Frisk doing puzzles with Asgore and Asriel. The two are fine too, right?” 

Oh! Thank! God!

“Yeah, I think so. They’re waving at me at the moment.” Waving for Aofil to come over, yes, but still waving. Technically, Aofil isn’t lying. They mouth as widely as they can that they’re talking to Toriel towards Asgore taking a couple of steps closer. Not quite as more-than-unhinged like what the bunny puppet did, but it seems to get the job done as Asgore spins on his heel as if on ice and walks back to the snow covered house of Papyrus and Sans while extending his thumb over his shoulder to Aofil. 

The puppet again opens its mouth wide, and Aofil cranes their neck as far away from it as possible before they go deaf. “The puzzle solving part of their brain has grown as much as they have!” the puppet shouts with a cheer.

Must’ve been Papyrus.

The small bunny at the puppet’s feet begins to wrap itself around Aofil’s foot, and it’s only because of the faded giggling emerging steadily from it that Aofil notices. They step out of the leash spun around their ankle before it can be dragged tight. 

“Dammit,” the small rabbit curses.

Must’ve been Undyne.

Alright, before everyone in the Lab takes control of the entire puppet population her in Snowdin village to create a town meeting of possessive monsters, each one opening its mouth worse than the bunny did as their bodies slowly saunter up with microphone feedback oozing out like a ritual to steal Aofil’s soul.

Just thinking about it has Aofil wanting to tear out their soul and throw it as far away as they can. Maybe toss it in one of the presents under the tree and hide it there.

Or maybe just pop over to Grillby for a beer and wait for it all to blow over.

In any case, they’re starting to feel the Snowdin cold creep through their sweater, so they should get the show moving again.

“Who brings the clothes?” Aofil sighs out. “Riverperson or Sans? Should I head over to the dock and-”

“Already delivered it,” the puppet informs, almost smugly.

“Sans?”

“Now that I’m back in the Lab, yes. When I delivered I was Asriel, of course. Gotta keep up the show, right?”

Good.

“Right?” the puppet asks again, leaning into Aofil. 

Oh they know what Sans is playing at, but they’re not gonna dignify that with an answer.

Aofil nods to the large tree lit up with a multitude of lamps in various blinking colors. “I’ll get back into position then.”

“You do that,” the bunny says before its head slumps over for a quick second. It then shoots up again with a wide smile on its lips. “Bun-bun-bun-bun,” it sings gladly.

So. Damn. Creepy…

Aofil heads over to the...birthday tree? Must be that. There’s a yellow globe with Frisk’s features on it at the top and everything. It has to be a birthday tree, right?

“Awful teens tormented a local monster by-”

“Wrong human,” Aofil states as they pass a blue bear busy with arranging presents at the foot of the tree. 

“So we started giving that monster presents to make it feel better,” the bear continues, smiling earnestly to Aofil as it shares its tale.

“Still the wrong human,” Aofil...no...wait…

Why are they arguing with it? It’s a puppet.

“S-s-sorry, A-Aofil,” the bunny puppet apologizes as it saunters carefully towards the yellow painted human. “I o-only h-had t-time t-to program in h-human detection, not b-between humans d-detection.”

“Now it’s a tradition to put presents underneath a decorated tree,” the blue bear happily continues to explain while motioning proudly up and down the tree with a large and fuzzy hand.

Blissfully unaware that Aofil isn’t paying it the slightest mind.

“It’s fine, Alphys,” Aofil assures to the bunny puppet looking down at its feet. Aofil does so too in case the pet puppet tries to trip them again. “I’ll just tune it out.”

“G-good.”

And now to look away as to not see the bunny seize as it goes back to its programming. Ignoring it fully, not thinking about-

Oh for…

What’s he doing here?

Mettaton bows his head slightly as he passes Aofil. “How was my performance?” he asks while spinning his purple robe around. “Besides absolutely and utterly gorgeous and fabulous, Aofil deary?” 

Aofil can’t help but notice the footsteps leading deeper into Snowdin, continuing along towards the Ruins. Not Frisk’s imprints in the snow, but those shaped more like large paws very similar to what Mettaton has on his feet.

Some would even say exactly similar, Aofil being one of them.

“Did you walk all the way here?” they pry slyly. “Why didn’t Sans shortcut you back?”

“Great,” Mettaton says with a smile less natural than what the bunny puppet had. “Question! I can forgive the complete lack of communication during the performance as the others having the greatest of faith in my acting abilities, as they should.” His hands clasp the sides of his robe, wringing it like a wet towel.

Wetter than the depths of Waterfall with how much he’s doing it.

“Maybe they thought you were so in the role you’d rather stay in Toriel’s house,” Aofil offers as an explanation, despite having less than no belief in it. “Method acting even after your performance?”

“If you think I’m gonna pay you for that advice I’ll have you know that it’s a clause in MK’s contract, not a bonus.”

Alright, yeah. Bad call on Aofil for appealing to Mettaton, that’s on them.

“Guess that hospitality and generosity was only part of the act then,” they shoot back like poison from their tongue while dragging a plastered grin. “You almost convinced me there, M.”

“You always find ways to impress me,” Mettaton returns with a surprising amount of sincerity. As in, genuine. “If it weren’t for the nose, hair, cheeks, voice, a bit of flubbiness.”

A bit of what now?

“I’d confuse you for MK at a glance, maybe even two,” Mettaton congratulates while patting warmly on Aofil’s shoulder. “You really should sign up for one of my acting classes, maybe even some of my shows!”

Aofil recognizes that gentle movement of Mettaton’s hand closing in on his chest. It’s gonna open any moment now to reveal a contract. He must have a printer inside of him to print a relevant contract by a moment’s notice. 

Aofil recognizes, and they don’t like that they do. With a quick tug of their shoulder, they break free before Mettaton can...persuade...otherwise. “I’m busy,” they inform like they would a person waving a poll about something Aofil has less than zero interest in a busy mall when they just want to get across to the hardware store on the other side to find the specific battery used in their monster crafted fire alarm that for some damn reason isn’t available in the general store down the road from their house because of reasons far and beyond any knowledge, forbidden or otherwise, to man, or monster.

A handful of snow falls from a decorated branch of the birthday tree. It lands on Aofil’s head, and instantly turns into steam.

At least the Snowdin cold has now backed away from Aofil, mostly out of fear and hesitation to be near the suddenly fuming human.

Alright…

Calm down...

“I haven’t even told you when my classes or shows are,” Mettaton retorts as if heartbroken.

As. If.

“Busy,” Aofil repeats, their lips curling back through raw instinct. “Busy busy.”

Mettaton seems unfazed by the now deep orange color on Aofil’s face, and he clears his throat. “There’s no reason to be afraid about your abilities, Aof darling,” Mettaton assures with a motherly voice borrowed, or plagiarized, from his Toriel performance. “If you feel like you want to prove your value to me first, sweetie, then of course I will give you space for that.”

Not even close, Mettaton.

“I’ll leave you to it, Aof...MK.” 

Mettaton bows with a wink and heads off to the nearby dock. Quiet humming soon appears for a brief while before disappearing again.

Aofil shakes their head.

“Awful teens tormented a local monster by hanging decorations in its antlers.”

“I told you, I’m not-”

Oh, it’s Frisk the blue bear is talking to…

Aofil clears their throat as they pretend not to notice Frisk. “Yooo!” they act surprised when Frisk pass by them. “You’re a-”

Frisk waves hurriedly with their hand to get Aofil to stop talking. Their other is firmly planted on their mouth to keep their chortle in. 

Oh...alright…

Frisk shakes their head as residual giggling catches up with them. 

Seems like Frisk is gonna go straight past Aofil. Fair enough for now, but once in Waterfall though? Ho boy, that’s gonna be interesting!

And speaking of interesting, Aofil should get something for what’s coming up. While they hear Asgore engage a smoke machine as Frisk takes a peek inside the Librabry, Aofil heads over back to Grillby’s. “Come with me,” they ask the blue bear, who follows after wrapping up the last of its present.

“Awful teens-”

“Yes, yes,” Aofil interrupts.

They hold the door open for the bear and motion with a slight nod for him to head inside the tavern.

“Could I bother for the rest of my tea?” Aofil asks Grillby hanging up the last piece of Frisk’s wet clothes above him on a clothesline. “Just give it to my friend here to hold.”

Grillby is a bit hesitant at the notion.

“I’ll ask him to help you with the laundry afterwards.”

Suddenly Grillby’s not so hesitant. He even refills Aofil’s cup, and adds a biscuit on the tea plate which he hands over to the blue bear, who takes it without really knowing what’s going on.

“Back out again,” Aofil orders before pointing with their tail towards the door.

“Human!” Asgore’s booming voice echoes throughout Snowdin.

Aofil takes with them a present that seems sturdy enough to act as a chair by wrapping their tail around it. They drag it to the edge of the small village, where the silhouette of Asgore stands dark and menacingly inside the white mist flowing like a liquid theater curtain, eager to disperse and begin the show.

“Powerful! Popular! Prestigious!!”

Aofil nods for the bear to sit down next to them.

“That’s Papyrus!”

They bend the arm of the blue puppet in front of them so that they don’t have to strain their neck too far.

“The newest member...”

They take a sip from their tea and a nibble of the biscuit.

“Of the Royal Guard!”

Because this is gonna be good!


	32. Top of the heart

“Mind if I join you?”

Another sturdy present is placed next to Aofil. A blue one with an orange ribbon tied neatly on top of it.

Until Asriel squishes it as he sits down on the present, that is. It bends as more of his weight is put on it, but it keeps steady.

Somehow.

“I don’t have anything for you, unfortunately,” Aofil regrets to inform. “Didn’t know you’d be joining me. Otherwise I’d ask Grillby for another cup of tea.”

“And had your friend carry it for you?”

The blue bear waves friendly with its free hand to Asriel, who waves back. The bear’s expression turns neutral, and Aofil turns away from it before it unhinges its jaw again. Judging by Asriel’s mortified and disgusted expression, he didn’t have time to avert his now stained eyes. 

“D-did you find the remote?” the blue bear asks with a stutter that’s jarringly incompatible with its otherwise warm and calm voice. “I p-put it in S-Sans’ m-mailbox if you d-didn’t-”

“I got it,” Asriel interrupts with a quick wave of a black remote adorned with rubber buttons strangely labeled. He flashes it to the bear before pocketing it back into his jacket.

“G-good, g-good,” the bear stutters out again. “Yes?”

Aofil and Asriel glance at each other. Neither of them said anything, so why the inquisitive ‘yes’?

“Toriel wonders if y-you also f-found the p-power bar for F-Frisk?”

Asriel nods. “Yup, I did.”

The bear’s smile twists as it chuckles uncomfortably now that the conversation’s stopped. “W-we’ll b-be monitoring t-the fight n-now.”

“You do that,” Aofil wishes well. “We’ll watch it from here. Shouldn’t be interfering, right?”

“I g-guess n-not,” the puppet answers reservedly. “J-just make s-sure you get into y-your n-next position in t-time.”

“We will.”

The bear makes one last nod before its expression turns neutral again. Asriel and Aofil’s neck turn simultaneously, craning as far away as possible.

“Awful teens have-”

“I know,” Aofil says with hurry as they ease their neck back forward.

“Interesting that it doesn’t fall for your disguise,” Asriel ponders with a lowered brow pointed at the blue bear puppet holding Aofil’s saucer with accompanying cup of tea and cookie in its outstretched arm. He reaches into his other jacket pocket, and takes out a half eaten power bar that he unwraps by only his thumb before taking another hearty bite out of it. “Is that because Alphys’ programming is really good or is it because Radentim lack of good costuming and make up?” he asks with his food almost escaping as his tongue flickers to form his words. “Would be best if it was the former. I’m pretty sure Radentim snipped her and or his pair of scissors right next to my ear to threaten me rather than to trim down some unruly hairs.”

“Wasn’t that power bar meant for Frisk?” Aofil feels that they have to ask. Radentim being angry and all that they can handle, that’s not a big deal. Asriel eating the power bar meant for Frisk, ordered by Toriel, no less? 

Now that’s a bit more important to get to the bottom to.

“I’m hungry,” Asriel answers before taking another bite. It might sooth his appetite, but it doesn’t the curiosity blossoming from Aofil’s raised eyebrow. “I’m hungry,” Asriel repeats, hoping that it’ll convince Aofil if he just says it one more time.

Turns out it doesn’t.

What a surprise.

“But your sibling, who’s been walking through Snowdin solving puzzles and such, isn’t hungry?” Aofil challenges as they extend their eyebrow further up.

“Dad and I have been running ahead of Frisk to get into position. We haven’t the luxury of Sans’ shortcut or Papyrus’...whatever it is that makes him untireable,” Asriel finishes off by blowing his cheeks up. He tops off his argument with a third large nibble of the honey-glazed chocolate bar with various nuts and flakes dotting it like a muddy pebble beach, confident that it’s enough to persuade Aofil.

Turns out it doesn’t.

What a surprise.

“What if Frisk gets hurt and needs the food to heal up?” Aofil postulates with a quick nod and slight tilt of their tail. Although, do they really believe that Asgore would put Frisk in danger with this quote unquote, fight of theirs? 

No, but maybe Asriel does?

Turns out he doesn’t.

What a surprise.

Asriel finishes off the power bar, wrapping the foil in his hand while scooting the last piece to the cheek opposite Aofil. “Here’s the thing,” he begins as he shoves the bundled wrapper into his already stained jacket. “I’m hungry.”

Yes, he said that just now. Third’s time not gonna be charm, Prince. Wouldn’t even work if Asriel was Prince Charming, which he isn’t at the moment looking like Sans after getting tarred and furred. Quite the antithesis to charming, to be perfectly honest. Aofil’s had kitchen towels less dirtied after their failed attempt at apple sauce a la Papyrus served with spaghetti. Par of the course for Asriel since he’s supposed to be like Sans, yes, but ironically stained is still very much stained.

Very, very much stained. 

“And Frisk will manage,” Asriel assures as he crosses his blue covered arms over his even more besmirched and besmudged undershirt. “We’ll be heading over to Grillby’s in a bit after their fight with dad, so it’ll be fine.”

“I’m supposed to be close by there, right?” Aofil’s not entirely sure if they were supposed to head to that tall patch of grass immediately.

Asriel runs the remainder of the flaky snack across his mouth back and forth as his eyes shoot up to the side to think. “Yes...” he says unconvincingly. “...I think?” The piece stops at the corner, teetering on falling out as his jaw falls down to allow his thinking “Uuuuuummmmmm...” to spill out. “Yes,” he says with a bit more conviction, his mouth clamping down and breaking the power bar into a light corn flake fall dripping down on his shirt. “At Sans’ old station at the Waterfall’s entrance. Then you’re off to talk a bit with MK to set up his reveal.” Asriel throws his thumb over his shoulder. “Frisk and I do a mock shortcut to Grillby where we-”

Cascading air tackles its way through Snowdin like an invisible tsunami, knocking over the presents not sat on by costumed monsters and humans, and almost taking with it the birthday tree in its violent reveal. Asriel remains unfazed by it, and Aofil manages to remain on their makeshift stool by pushing against the vicious wind with their tail.

“Alright,” Asriel says after blinking the gust and light shower of snow out of his eyes, “now they’re starting.”

Aofil manages to shake away the majority of snow fastened on their face, the rest they also blink out. Brought with it a bit of a chill, that burst, but it did also clear the fog surrounding Frisk and Asgore, which must’ve been its purpose. Still, quite chilly, so Aofil should have a bit more tea to warm themselves up. Unless the tea was blasted away from the sudden and rapid typhoon.

Which is was…

Fantastic.

The cup of tea and biscuit that the light blue bear was carrying is nowhere to be found, the only clue that it was ever existent is a trail of drops in the snow behind Aofil. They must’ve dodged it in the last second as they bent down against the wind. A bullet pattern in the shape of a porcelain cup flying at high velocity. Quite the impressive magic, to be honest. Would’ve knocked out a human should it hit one. The tea might’ve healed the damage up instantly afterwards, but it would’ve sent a pretty clear message.

Exactly what the message would say, Aofil has no clue, but it would be very legible being thrown at their face and all that.

The blue bear looks down at the empty saucer in its hand, blinks once, and then moves its head up to Aofil.

“Awful teens-”

“Go back to the tree,” Aofil mutters out. They were really looking forward to that tea. They can still slurp up some of it from the dotted snow behind them, but it was more the warmth rather than the taste that had them giddy.

Biscuit looked nice as well…

Aofil sighs.

The puppet happily brings along the empty saucer with it back to the tree. It stops as it scans for any loose presents in need of wrapping, but no presents are present under the tree. Scattered like leaves they litter the ground, walls, and roofs of Snowdin, and the bear begins to collect the colorful boxes back to where they belong.

“The puppets are a bit inconsistent with what they can and can’t do,” Aofil voices with a slight disgust to their tone. The image of the bunny puppet’s unhinged jaw is still prominent in their mind. “But I’m sure Alphys did her best. Never been one for programming myself.”

“Maybe we should focus more on the program about to happen?” Asriel shoots back with a quick nod to the now defogged area where Frisk and Asgore are standing. There’s a snow angel behind Frisk, and some of it is still sticking to the felt on their back.

So much for dry clothes…

Asriel produces from his blue, stained jacket pocket a remote, which he points towards his costumed father. “Ready for some GREAT PAPYRUSNESS?” he asks as he transitions his voice to that of the titular friend.

“Papyrus...ness?” drips from Aofil’s tongue like a slightly not-closed faucet in the middle of the night on the other side of the house.

“Better than Sans,” Asriel shrugs. “Could never imagine something as silly as Sans being equated in the same sentence to ness.”

True.

Asriel presses a button with a slight flair of his hand, and almost immediately, music begins to emerge around Frisk and Asgore, the two bouncing along to the beat of it on their knees. 

Aofil can’t help but whistle along to it, and Asriel joins them as soon as he pockets the remote.

“You’re blue now!” Asgore shouts with pride, producing a blue heart made out of paper-mâché from behind his back. He throws it to Frisk, who catches it with both of their hands. “That’s my attack!”

Asriel again points the remote towards Frisk, and with the press of another button, they’re forced down on one knee.

“Careful with their back,” Aofil sings out along with the music in half a chastise. “They’re not a kid anymore, remember,” they continue along singing with the beat.

Asriel waits for another four or so beats to pass while bobbing his head side to side, each one bringing with it a wider and wider grin. “They’re not as old as you are though, so it’s fine,” he also sings along, ending it with a crescendo only found in church choir.

Aofil’s angry muttering is drowned out by the suddenly irritating joy surrounding them, both from the jolly music, and Asriel’s proud and smug grin emphasizing the one painted on him. They mumble under their breath, but that only validates Asriel’s point further.

Dammit.

Frisk pushes themselves up on their feet again, stretching out their back as they hoist the blue heart up over their chest.

Asgore winks, sending out a red, almost, kinda, sorta, bone shaped trident towards Frisk. Just like with Mettaton’s attacks the tridents are harmless to Frisk, just bouncing off their body like snowflakes. It’s the paper-mâché heart that’s at stake here, but despite the weight of it, Frisk still manages to dodge the quote unquote, attacks.

“Nyeh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh!” Asgore guffaws heartily, his voice making the entire cavern quake as he angles his chest upwards with one balled mitten firmly placed at his side, and his other hanging thoughtlessly on his opposite side. 

The music picks up as Asriel summons another track with the help of his remote, and the bobbing of him and Aofil turns deeper along with it. The music is too good to ignore and be unhappy with, even if it brought with it a reminder of the curse that is the passage of time.

Aofil’s lips are gonna be chafed to hell and back if they keep licking them in this cold to continue their whistling, but it’s worth it for the spectacle. Asgore’s colorful tridents glide along the snow effortlessly, hovering just above the glistening white layer to not make any visible strokes in the snow, but close enough so that it creates waves of shimmering ice crystal on both sides of his red magic.

The red ships of bone glide along silently, each with a different height to it. Some tall, some short, with Frisk moving their heart to avoid getting hit.

But to err is human, and Frisk is very much a human.

The heart begins to jolt around inside Frisk’s hands, and they dance awkwardly along to keep it still in their grip.

Asgore dabs some MTT branded cream behind his ear.

The heart eventually calms down, and Frisk manages to get it under control before another wave of red bones hurry along towards them. This wave they manage to avoid without their heart trying to wrestle itself out of Frisk’s fingers.

“How is it doing that, by the way?” Aofil asks Asriel.

“Hm?” he answers, clearly busy with observing the fight between his sibling and bone painted father.

“The heart,” Aofil repeats with an inquisitive nod towards the dark blue object in Frisk’s hands. “How is it moving? Magic?”

Gotta be.

“Small jetpack inside it,” Asriel explains. 

Oh…

“Magical jetpack,” he corrects.

Ah!

“Pointing down to make it heavy, to the sides to makes it move, that sorta thing. Doesn’t have to actually be heavy, just have to emit a force downwards so that it feels heavy.”

Someone’s been paying attention to Aofil’s physics classes. Now ain’t that some magic.

“I have some control over it with my remote,” Asriel continues while balancing the bottom of the remote on his extended finger. He flips it once and catches it without as much as moving his finger. He wiggles his eyebrows to Aofil, but they just lowers theirs to the narcissistic boast Asriel displayed. “Make the heart spin, make it heavier, lighter, and so on,” he begins anew after his failed attempt to impress Aofil. “And speaking of that...”

Asriel touches a couple of buttons with the remote pointed at Frisk. The heart has them spinning around, maybe a bit too…

“Maybe a bit too quick?” Aofil wonders out loud as Frisk’s heart has their sweater beginning to lift up from the centripetal force caused by their accelerating spinning. “Asriel?” Aofil voices with a bit more urgency as Frisk begins to lose control of their footing. Worse than Undyne after half a unit of alcohol.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit!”

That’s quite a worrying statement that just hit Aofil’s ears like a runaway freight train filled with goods that were promised to not be delivered inside a fright train. Had it come from Frisk it’d be understandable, what with their uncontrollable spinning, but unfortunately it’s from Asriel.

The one supposedly in control of the uncontrollable spinning.

Him slamming the face of the remote into his palm while his eyes begin to bulge out of his panicked face dragged into a state of horrid expression tells a bit of a different story though. One that’s a bit too in medias res for Aofil’s taste, and they’re just watching!

“The button’s stuck!” Asriel screams through his gritted teeth. 

Stuck?

Aofil’s head shoot back to Frisk, who’s now up on one leg with the blue heart at the end of their outstretched arms. Streaks of blue, yellow, and brown hair whirl by with each rotation. Their fingers are locked together, they can’t let go! Asgore can’t approach either, if he grabs and holds Frisk it’ll snap their spine and neck!

“Mom’s gonna kill me!” Asriel laments as if it’s his last.

“You’re gonna kill Frisk before Toriel gets as much as a finger on you, Asriel,” Aofil retorts as their adrenaline begins to spike. They realize a bit too late that it might’ve not been the best thing to do. “Just...” Just do what? “Point it up or something? Down maybe? Give it to me!”

Asriel hands it over to Aofil who stretches out their their hand and...and...

Oh…

Right…

The two lock eyes, but their collective embarrassment is short lived, as the brief whizzing of a blue heart zips by just above them, whistling like a bullet as it passes over their head like a jet on afterburners. The heart slams into the upper half of the birthday tree, snapping it with an echoing crack that slowly calms in intensity as the now torn upper half of the tree sails merrily in the air, throwing decorations and breaking the cables for the colorful light bulbs, blinking out just before crashing into the deep snow with a deeper thud.

The top of the decorations, the porcelain sphere painted and molded like Frisk’s head, spins like a bowling ball in the snow, creating a layer of snowy protection that shatters as it slams against the front wall of Grillby’s. The porcelain sphere lands in the snow next to a very startled blue bear, who drops the package in its hand as the snowball slams less than an arm’s length next to him.

It’s only now that the sound of the crafted heart hitting the far, far end of the cavern wall comes stumbling in throughout the town. Like a bouncing ball on a bass drum, the dull sound of the impact is scarily similar to that of a heartbeat dying off, leaving only a dead silent in its still wake.

“You think it made a hole in the bedrock wall?” Asriel wonders through a startled chuckle.

Aofil needs a few more moments before they can answer that.

After looking at it curiously, the puppet picks up the sphere at their feet, rotating it in its hands as it tries to figure out what to do with it. It’s head cranes back as the three thick black strokes of a felt marker pelt greet it.

“Awful teens have been decorating a nearby monster,” it says to the crudely painted human face in its hands.

Moments later, the door of the cozy tavern is flung open, and out pops the perplexed head of Grillby, his flaming hair bent into the vague shape of a question mark. He takes a brief glance of the silted impact on his wall, the blue bear puppet telling a story to a yellow porcelain sphere, the birthday tree snapped in half, and Aofil and Asriel breathing deeply as they also stare at the same destruction as Grillby does.

He adjusts his glasses.

And heads inside again.

“Maybe,” Aofil finally answers. “I… I don’t know.”

“We should,” Asriel interrupts himself with a deep swallow, “we should check on Frisk,” he repeats after a steadying breath. 

A good idea.

Aofil just needs to get their legs operational again. And their head. And their tail. And their-

“Give me your arm,” they ask of Asriel, who puts one around their shoulders. 

No, not like-

“No.” Aofil tries to wring the blue jacket over their shoulder and head, but Asriel doesn’t seem to catch on what Aofil wants. Neither do they, in a sense. “Over my mouth.”

“Wha-”

“Just do it.”

Timidly, Asriel moves their arm to Aofil. Their mouth and tongue begs for them to reconsider, but they can’t. They have to.

“Sorry,” they say, both to Asriel, and to themselves.

They then bite down on the arm, and scream.

A handful of tormentingly long seconds pass before Aofil throws their neck back to breathe in deeply. The cold, almost freezing air rushes through their lungs and head, giving them a mild brain freeze, but it also clears the rest out that they couldn’t scream out. They shake their head, “Right!” and shoot themselves up on their feet. “Let’s go.”

Asriel doesn’t move. How can he? The shock… Having your teacher dressed as your friend bite down on your arm and scream their lungs out? No mortal should ever have to go through such a task, such a mental gauntlet.

“Asriel?” 

Give him a second, dammit!

“Yeah...” he lies. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he continues lying. “Let’s go.”

Mental scars be damned, he has a sibling to save!

“Toriel’s gonna kill me,” Asgore laments as if it’s his last as Aofil and Asriel move in closer. 

Frisk sits with their head planted firmly between their palms, groaning, moaning, mumbling. It’s a miracle their brain isn’t pouring out of their nose. 

“You alright?” Aofil asks.

Frisk nods.

“Gotta have to say yes because you could be trying to shake your head but your sense of direction is all messed up.”

“Yes,” Frisk says. “I’m fine. I just need a moment. Little bit of warning before the next carousel, please?”

Aofil looks over their shoulder. Chaos, chaos. Might have to warn not only for Frisk’s sake next time.

“I’ll head inside the house with you and sit you down on the sofa,” Asgore explains as he lifts his spun child up in his large, fuzzy arms. He does so with the same care and ease he did when Frisk was but a child. It’s a calming sight in the midst of all this chaos. “We’ll do the date when you feel that the world is no longer spinning.”

“Just some water and a minute or so and I’ll be golden,” Frisk assures, but then puts their hand back on their head. “Maybe two minutes...”

As Asgore closes the house of the skeleton brothers, Sans’ mailbox falls over embarrassingly.

“We should head into our next position,” Asriel suggests before taking the lead. Aofil hurries after him.

No point standing in the cold when there’s more normal temperature around the corner. Or at the way’s end, to be more precise. Behind them they can hear the bear puppet repeat its speech to the yellow decorative sphere. Aofil was beginning to grit against hearing it repeat its spiel to them constantly. Good thing they’re moving on. The explaining voice of the blue bear fades away as the rushing sound from the Waterfall takes more precedent in the surrounding environment. It’s a calming sound, despite it’s somewhat violent pouring. 

“You’re to stand somewhere here,” Asriel points for Aofil at the first bend of Waterfall. “You know what to say, right?”

“Asking Frisk if they’re sneaking out to see Undyne, but not mention her name,” Aofil answers as they take their position opposite and a bit ways off from the meager station Asriel heads into.

He gives Aofil a thumb’s up before taking out his phone to occupy himself. 

He’s doing that on purpose to tease Aofil. He has to.

Aofil’s tired shake leads them to make eye contact with an orange puppet standing exactly opposite them next to a blooming Echo Flower.

No...

The puppet saunters over on its extended fin.

No.

Asriel looks up from his phone, his smile wide and shining like the crystals in the walls behind him.

No!

The orange puppet stops half a face’s length from Aofil. It points behind it.

“This is an Echo Flower.”

OH FOR FU-


	33. Tailing ahead

“…”

Aofil lifts their eyebrows.

“...”

They wrinkle their nose.

“...”

They flash their teeth.

“...”

Wiggle their ears.

“Ribbit, ribbit. Just between you and me...”

“Guess it’s just the ears left,” Radentim says after a thinking hum. He and or she pushes the Froggit puppet away with one of his and or her foot, and throws a blanket over its head. She and or he then spins Aofil back in the barber’s chair while she and or he rummages through the make up wagon.

The now thicker layer of paint sits a bit more heavier on Aofil’s face, but their features are now a bit more obscured, a bit more nonhuman.

“Can you hear out of...” Radentim’s voice trails off as a pair of flat cups are pressed against Aofil’s ears.

“What?”

“...uess not.” Radentim discards the cups and begins rummaging anew. “Maybe just a pair of fabric muffs?”

Aofil turns the chair over to the monitor. Frisk has just found out about the spaghetti Asgore’s hidden underneath his cap, and his heart melts as Frisk takes a great big bite out of it, swallowing it with delight.

Asgore puts his flustered hand on his basketball tee a couple of sizes too small for him. “Human...” he sighs, even more flustered, with cheeks burning brighter than Aofil’s.

And Toriel’s, but only barely.

Aofil’s spun back facing the mirror. “How’s this?” Radentim asks while mounting a pair of inner cups from a pair of headphones. “Comfortable?”

More or less.

“I think I can manage,” Aofil answers.

“Right.” Radentim leans over to fetch the brushes dripping thick with yellow paint. “Sit still, I’m gonna try and have them blend in with the shape of your head.”

The wet paint sloppily licking behind Aofil’s ear is a bit...weird. A bit too much like an actual tongue for their taste. Luckily they have the mirror to overrule their imagination. Had Aofil had their tail left it would’ve whipped in response to the shiver running down their back during the first cold stroke of Radentim’s brush.

Despite their extra layers of paint, Aofil feels naked. Like something’s been ripped away from them. It’s sitting curled up in a neat pile just out of reach.

Their tail.

Popped away from them with less of a thought as one would the electrical cable of a standing lamp in need of moving.

One quick tug, and then discarded.

“Soon,” Aofil mouths to it. Soon the two will be one again. So close, yet so far away. Each second spent apart is agony. It’s harrowing, the emptiness behind them. Cruelest of faiths! Damnedest of curses! Wail out! Rage! Rage against the injustice! The evil that’s been wrought upon Aofil, an eternity of torment, a horizon with nothing but dark and ominous clouds that roar thunders of mockery against them! Thei-

“Tilt your head for me.”

Aofil angles their head to the side.

“Thanks,” Radentim says before continuing to drag the newly wet brush as one would their feet through autumn leafs. 

Where was Aofil?

Oh, right.

Their tail thrown haphazardly into the corner like an ill accepted trophy. Scalped from them like a surgeon would cancer. Ripped and teared, until nothing was left! Where there was symbiosis there is now nothing. Where there was harmony, there is now discord. A yin without yang. A tailbone without tail. Now just exposed as a point of weakness, an evolutionary no man’s land, with their exposed skeleton hidden behind the faintest of skin and flesh. They’ve gone from a-

“Other side.”

Nice, it’s starting to come together now.

“Thank you,” Radentim nods as he and or she dips his and or hers brush into the small jar of yellow paint again.

Right, back to what Aofil was thinking.

They’ve gone from a whole to a half, maybe even less. Maybe they’ll never be whole again, even if they reclaim what’s rightfully theirs? The void created by the mere notion of the two being separated… No mere mortal should ever face such trials. Such...torment. Anger, nothing else can describe this unjust action. Fear, its reason for this heinous action. A reason summoned without logic or respect, without compassion, without hope.

“Should be good now,” Radentim informs through narrowed eyes. He and or she brings the puppet back as he and or she spins Aofil around to face the Froggit puppet again.

“...”

Aofil wiggles their ears.

“...”

Nose.

“...”

Lips.

“...”

Eyebrows.

“...”

Shoulders.

“...”

“Great!” Radentim shoves the Froggit away again. “You’re good to go.” He and or she removes the plastic cover laid on Aofil, and motions for them to hop on out.

“Thanks. I shou...woah.”

Aofil manages only one step before they almost fall over backwards. They manage to stumble themselves upright again by leaning against the wall, but it was a bit too close for comfort. Had they fallen they’d leave an imprint of their face in yellow paint on the Lab floor.

Radentim shoots a pair of very befuddled eyes over Aofil’s way. “Have you...” He and or she taps away the last drops of paint away from their brush on the rim of the small jar. “Have you gotten used to the tail, Aofil?”

Aofil looks up from their awkward squat to get their tail back into position. “What?” they voice while bending their tail behind them to compensate for the momentum created as they turn around to face Radentim. “What do you mean?”

Radentim keeps her and or his perplexed eyes locked on Aofil’s tail bending up to scratch the top of Aofil’s head with its tip. “N….nevermind. It was...” Radentim blows their lips in…just strange. “It was nothing,” he and or she lies. “Just don’t scratch where I just painted.”

Aofil whips their tail up to let Radentim know they understood, like a thumb’s up, but a tail’s up. “Thanks again for the help.”

“Yeah...” Radentim nods. “Yeah...sure. It’s about Frisk, isn’t it?”

The implicating tone sails merrily over Aofil’s head.

“Yeah, it is.”

Radentim just...no...and goes back to his and or her magazine which pages are turned with a very deep and exasperated sigh.

Aofil pays it no mind.

How could they feel any inkling of grim now that they have their tail back?

They whip it in a circle, cracking the air like a whip.

Oh yes…that’s the good stuff.

“Yooo...” MK’s face loses shine as he turns his armored torso towards the cracking sound. He shakes his head while chuckling. “You...look more like me, Aofil,” he notices with a reservation covering his voice more than the replicate Undyne armor does his body. “It’s...”

“It’s for Frisk,” Aofil informs. “The puppets took me for a human, but since I’m not supposed to be a human,” they shrug while tilting their head from side to side, “it triggers the puppets before Frisk arrives. Not really good when it’s supposed to be for them.”

MK hesitates an answer. “Yes,” he nods along, albeit without conviction, “I guess so. It’s just that, before you just looked like a painted human, but now you...”

“Now I’m more like a monster?” Aofil pries with their tail raised like a question mark. They’re unsure whether or not they did that on purpose.

“More like me, yeah,” MK mutters through lips unwilling to part from their uncomfortable bend. “But I guess Undyne feels the same looking at me, right?”

Faint green hue on MK’s scales aside, what with the blue paint being painted on top of his yellow scales, he does strike a rigorous resemblance. With the helmet over his head none would be the wiser. Until he opens his mouth, that is, or tries to throw cyan spears. The latter is gonna be interesting, not the least from the way his tail is painted to look like one. How is he gonna give the illusion of throwing them though? Snap his tail forward? Twist it? Jump along with it and-

“Aofil?”

They unbundle their tail before answering. “What?”

MK’s eyes and teeth hang for a second on Aofil’s tail. “Um...yeah! We’re soon up, you and I, right? At the tall grass when Frisk walks into it. I’ll threaten my spear after having a talk with Asgore, and then you two will jump out. We’ll meet afterwards and go over the ridge section, alright? Might be better to talk about it on location and stuff.”

“Where is Frisk now?” Aofil wonders while craning their neck around MK’s broad shoulders to see the monitor.

“Just arrived at Grillby’s along with Asriel,” Undyne shouts while nodding once towards the computer monitor bathing her in the warm orange light of Grillby’s tavern. Flickers from the titular owner’s head casts a pleasant nostalgic calm over Undyne and the rest of the monsters watching the screen. Like they’re staring at a healthy hearth.

Aofil can’t help but smile just as warmly. Despite the horrible jokes Asriel’s almost mocking impression of Sans that spills out of the computer, it’s something Aofil could just watch for hours. Their friends and family so wholesomely enthralled.

It’s nice.

With a cold breeze, Sans swoops into existence. “got the king on his pedestal,” he informs the room before beckoning MK and Aofil to him. “just you two left.”

With a stylish flick of his tail, MK flips the helmet resting next to him on the floor up on his head. “Alright,” he says as he eases it down so that it sits comfortably. He nods hard, knocking the visor down. “I’m ready.” His voice has a slight echo to it, a muffled echo. Ominous in a way.

Aofil’s more interested in the flick MK did. They could probably do something similar with theirs, they reckon with a curious hum. Maybe with the umbrella stand later? Yes, yes, and then-

“you’re not supposed to space out yet, aof,” Sans reminds after a loud snap with his fingers. “character outside the lab, not inside it.”

MK throws his head backwards, angling up his face plate revealing a pair of lowered eyebrows pointed hard at Sans. “What do you mean by that?” he asks as he leans forward threateningly, the red extension on the back of his helmet flopping down and hitting him in the eye.

“same to you, kiddo,” Sans chuckles as MK blows upwards to get the extension away. “in character only outside the lab.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” wonders Undyne, who’s suppressed giggling stopped dead after Sans’ comment. 

Before things domino further, Sans takes action, which must mean that whatever inaction he could’ve chosen otherwise would’ve sat pretty bad for him. That’s usually how the song and dance goes with Sans, with him lifting a finger being the equivalent of a five act interpretative dance in terms of effort spent.

“Howdy!” Asgore shouts while looking down from a rock cliff a few meters up in the air. “I heard that Asriel was just done with his and Frisk’s Grillby visit, so the birthday kid should be here in a bit.”

Sans shortcuts away again, causing the large patch of grass next to Aofil to sway. Like thin...tails…the strands move in a way that’s mesmerizing to Aofil. 

Maybe...maybe they’ve gone a bit too far with this whole tail business? If they’re seeing tails instead of grass that might be a sign that they’re-

“Hm?”

Aofil looks over their shoulder, seeing their tail shakes its tip from side to side before lowering itself back down again.

It has a good point. How can Aofil be crazy if a part of their body just said that it was fine? A crazy person wouldn’t be able to talk to their own body like that. Crazy means not normal, and you’re the epitome of normal if you’re aware enough of your limbs that you can have a meaningful discussion with them.

Makes sense to Aofil.

And their tail nods too.

Unanimous agreement. 

How can things be wrong when everyone thinks it’s a good idea? 

It can’t. Everything’s fine.

Fine!

Just fine.

Everything’s fine and dandy.

Just-

“Aofil?”

Aofil turns around with their tail scratching the side of their cheek over their shoulder. “What?”

Asgore and MK trade furrowed glances at the top of the rocky overlook. Asgore must’ve pulled MK up there. 

“You’re alright, right?” MK asks. “You’re not getting stage freight a bit? I mean…I am, a bit. Although,” he says after knocking his face plate up again with a quick flex of his neck, “you did act a bit before, and you looked quite calm with it.”

“What?” Aofil repeats, their tail whipping into a question mark before laying flat on the ground again. 

“I think I hear Frisk now,” Asgore hushes. “Hide in the grass, Aofil.”

MK turns around while Asgore hurries off out of sight. Mere seconds later, Frisk arrives, or that much Aofil guesses based on the small chuckle echoing through the room. They hear Frisk carefully entering the patch of long grass, just a step away from Aofil, who carefully steps back so that Frisk won’t spot them.

“Hi, Undyne!” Asgore enters in from his hiding spot. “I’m here with my daily report.”

“Oooh, menacing, MK,” Frisk giggles from the grass patch.

“What? Did I date them?” Asgore repeats after a hard swallow. “Yes! Of course I did! I dated them valiantly!”

Aofil can hear MK whip his tail from above.

“What?” Asgore’s voice continues. “Did I celebrate them? W-w-well… No.”

“Oh, dad...” Frisk sighs. “No wonder mom never let you attend those dramatic school plays.”

Is his acting that bad? Aofil doesn’t think so. Although, that makes them worried. If Frisk thinks Asgore’s acting is bad, and Aofil doesn’t, does that mean that their own acting is as out of touch as Asgore’s? Or at least, not conforming to what Frisk has set as acceptable?

What was that, tail?

It’s the kiddo that is wrong?

Yes, yes, you’re right. 

As always.

“I tried very hard, Undyne,” Asgore’s words ring out as if crying over spilled milk he got for complimentary for his tea, “but in the end...I failed.”

MK again whips his tail, sending some gravel down the cliff wall.

...And into the neck of Aofil’s sweater? What? You’re kidding? Oh for- Oh no, it’s chafing against Aofil’s spine. 

Dammit!

Aofil carefully angles their tail up the back of their sweater to shake the gravel loose. It works, but…now they can’t get it out. 

Double dammit!

“You’re going to celebrate the human’s soul yourself...” Asgore heaves a very theatrical sigh that would have the long grass flattened out should he have aimed his sigh at it. “But Unynde, you don’t have to gift them. You see… You see...”

“Don’t have to gift?” Frisk mutters as if chewing venom. Aofil can almost hear the poison sizzle against the stone ground as it falls from Frisk’s tongue.

Now, if they just...gotta...get...their...tail…

“…I understand,” Asgore voices, again very theatrically. “I’ll help you in any way I can.” The sound of his leather boots squeak fainter and fainter with each distant step he takes. Heavier does MK’s boots as he also exits stage back, melding into the dark.

“Yo...did you-” Aofil begins from inside the grass patch after Frisk has managed a few steps outside it. They come jumping out on one leg with their tail still bundled up with the fabric of their sweater. The weight of Frisk’s confused look is enough to trip Aofil, and they crash cheek first into the ground, knocking the air out of them.

Frisk’s squats down to the coughing human in monster dress and make up bending their knees up to their chest while coughing violently. “You alright?”

Everyone keeps asking that for some strange reason.

“Yeah,” Aofil assures after a steadying cough. They turn their neck awkwardly around. “My tail.”

Frisk is a bit reluctant to reach into Aofil’s sweater and wrestle with the yellow prosthetic thrashing about as if possessed.

Well, it kinda is, to be fair…

“Just bend it a bit,” Aofil asks. “A bit more...a bit…more...and…” With Frisk’s hesitant help, Aofil tail finally shoots back out of the bottom of their sweater, stretching the fabric into one size larger so that it hangs ill fitted on Aofil’s shoulders. “There we go!” they still cheer as they take strain on it to stand up.

They clear their throat.

“Did you see the way she was staring at you?” Aofil asks wide eyed and excited blossoming like a red-hot coal. “That...”

Frisk braces themselves.

“Was...”

But it’s not gonna be enough.

“Awesome!”

They fold in half laughing.

“I’m SOOOO jealous!”

And Aofil isn’t doing anything to help.

“What’d you do to get her attention…?”

Not in the slightest.

“C’mon!” They nod hard towards the nearby door. “Let’s go watch her beat up some bad guys!”

Frisk’s continuous chuckle leaves them unable to follow Aofil’s joyous jig as they hurry on down the path, their tail whipping back and forth with each theatrical stride.

A pair of large, red mittens emerge from above, grabbing Aofil by the shoulders, and lifting them up like they were a chess piece about to make check mate. Not a lot of excitement from the chess piece though, as the blood from their head rushes to collect at their feet until Asgore places them down on the stone ledge above the path.

“You-”

“Give me a second,” Aofil says while taking a deep breath. They can feel their blood pump back up into their brain again, and the world turning back into colors. “Alright, I’m fine now.”

“Sorry,” Asgore apologizes while moving Aofil away from the edge. “MK weighed a bit heavier in his armor.”

“It’s good now,” Aofil says after shaking their head awake again. They carefully peek back over the ledge, seeing Frisk giggling through their nose while traversing exactly where Aofil was lifted up. 

Frisk passes by the seeds for the upcoming bridge puzzle and picks one seed with them that they send down an open body of water.

“I’m up next a couple of rooms, right?” Aofil asks mostly to show that they know. “With the tall seaweed, but on land?”

“Yes,” Asgore answers with an absent nod as he’s busies his eyes with Frisk picking up a second large seed that they again send over the body of water while humming happily to themselves. A nostalgic sigh flows out of the large and silly costumed Boss Monster king. The calm blue of the Waterfall lies like a comforting blanket on him as he watches his human child so grown up. So happy wandering the Underground.

“We’ve come so far,” he again sighs, ending his heave with a chuckle that’s more crying than laughter. Good crying though, relieving for him. A king that’s seeing how far he and his people has come, and a dad seeing his child so grown up, and how far they have come as well.

You could push him over just by looking at him the way his shoulders are so weightless in this moment. He might even float away like a big novelty balloon that a small unsupervised child’s drawn all over with felt pen.

“You too, Aofil,” Asgore whispers while turning his shining smile their way. “You too.”

“Still owe me two packs of Golden Flower from last weeks poker, I’m afraid,” Aofil shoots over with coy and a disarming chuckle. “Thanks though...” Alright, gotta be in character somewhat! Aofil takes a respectful bow, “my king.”

Asgore shakes his head, still with his smile outshining the crystals dotting the cavern like blinking stars. “The Great Papyrus and the king will say the same thing to you then,” he says while bowing his head back. “You never have to bow to any of us, and you never had to.”

The third seed slots into place. Just one more for Frisk to fetch. Aofil should probably get going so that they’re in place.

“I’ll see you up ahead,” they bid to Asgore. “Papyrus.”

“Nyeh nyeh nyeh,” Asgore giggles under his breath.

The fourth seed slides into place as Aofil turns around. They can hear Frisk’s whistling rise in crescendo as the subtle popping sound of the bridge seeds unfold.

The crescendo quickly turns into a startled yell followed immediately by a big splash.

You gotta be kidding…

Aofil leans over the ledge again next to Asgore with his two large fuzzy hands shaking his heavy head. Frisk is soaking wet from the belly down as they drag themselves up on the stone path again. The almost ethereally cyan lighting coming from the, not any longer, still water and crystal that bathed Asgore calmly does nothing to suppress Frisk’s groan as they tilt their head back.

“OH FOR FU-”

Oh, the cups around Aofil’s ears just sunk down for some strange reason. They grind the side of their head against their shoulder until the cups clear the space around their ears. The light chiming noise from the crystal around them come back to their temporary noiseless world.

“ake ake ake ake.”

That must be Frisk’s echo. Certainly has that tone to it.

“Toriel’s gonna kill me.”

And that must be Asgore realizing what Frisk shouted at the top of their lungs.

Now what’s that orange light come careening around the corner?


	34. Disappearance through confectionery

“Please don’t do that voice again, Aofil.”

Frisk again crouches down near where Aofil is hunkered in the patch of tall seaweed.

“I don’t think I can handle it again. I’ve just had sorta lunch and my stomach hurts like hell.”

Heavy and clunky footsteps close in on the seaweed patch. 

“Please.”

The dark and intimidating suit of armor stops its advance barely an arm’s reach away from the patch. It turns slowly, extending the blue painted tail behind it to rummage through the seaweed. Aofil leans forward into its reign, and is pulled out for a brief moment.

“A bit too close to my throat,” they stage whisper to MK as they feel the edge of his tail push against the side of their throat.

“Sorry,” he whispers back through his helmet, easing his grip around Aofil’s shoulder before easing them back down into the flowing seaweed. He then makes a pretend last sweep with his tail before clunking away.

“Please,” Frisk repeats with a giggle already taking roots in their voice. They wait for an answer that will never come, and with a chuckle through a defeated sigh, they timidly step out of their hiding spot.

“Yo!” Aofil explodes as they leap out of the seaweed with a smile splitting their cheeks in two. The voice they’re putting on is also splitting their throat in twine too, but how can they resist this temptation being mere a mortal? “Did you see that!?” their joyous and breathy voice continues. 

Frisk’s angry eyes do little effect as the rest of their face teeters on the brink of erupting in laughter. “I hate you,” they manage to say before their snickering overwhelms them.

“Undyne just...”

“Stop!” Frisk yells desperately as they begin to fold up.

“...Touched me!” Aofil squeals, it being like a belt sander on full blast against their vocal chords. They might have to ask for some healing after this.

Frisk seeks support from the wall, the only thing keeping them on their feet. 

“I’m never washing my face ever again!” Aofil walks up to Frisk and leans their shoulder onto the heaving human. “Man, you are unlucky.”

Frisk shoves Aofil away all the while gasping for air through their cackle.

“If you were standing just a LITTLE bit to the left, human.”

“I can’t-” Frisk coughs. “Just stop!”

Aofil allows Frisk some room to breathe, but with each one they take, Frisk is sizing up Aofil, waiting anxiously for more of that horribly put on voice to begin again. They look down the path.

Aofil shakes their head. “Yo-o~,” they emit as a warning through song, making it clear that they know exactly what Frisk wants to do.

They can’t run faster than where Aofil’s voice will reach. They’ll just trip and fall face first laughing their head off.

“Don’t worry.” Aofil again leans into Frisk, this time closer. “I’m sure we’ll see her again!”

The two humans lock eyes. Aofil’s surrounded by thick layers of paint and prosthetic teeth and horns, and Frisk’s surrounded by wrinkles from their almost inhuman task of holding their laughter in.

“Yo?” Aofil pries maliciously. “Yo yo yo, fellow kid?”

Frisk’s cheeks tense to the point that you could grate diamonds on them. About to burst at the slightest stimulation. The slightest mention Aofil would do will leave Frisk unable to act.

Would they though?

Yes.

Of course they would.

“How about that L, O, L, and stuff?”

Oh that’s harrowing on Aofil’s vocal chords, but not as much damage as Frisk’s must’ve gone through as their upper torso bend like a well oiled hinge. A monstrous chortle puts even Asgore’s sneezes to shame, and the cavernous space rumbles as Frisk’s laughter howls throughout the blue tinted walls. Nearby crystals fall out of their sockets. Leaving the homes they’ve had for thousands, if not millions, of years because of Frisk.

And also Aofil.

Mostly Frisk though. After all, it’s their laughter that’s shaking the Underground to its core.

Core…

CORE.

Oh no! The cake!

“Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

Had Aofil not had their cuffs on their ears would’ve been bleeding right about now.

But yeah, the cake? 

It is Muffet’s baking though. It should hold an earthquake judging by her previous work. Sometimes not even a cake trowel can slice off a piece for serving. Filling almost on par with Papyrus’ risotto which has you cursing yourself for eating too much after one single spoon of it.

“Ahahahahaha-” 

And here comes the coughs. The mixture of laughter and pain, blended like the cheese to rice ratio in Papyrus’ risotto funnily enough. On first glance it’s rice, laughter in Frisk’s case, but after a while you realize it’s all cheese, and pain respectively. Frisk leans their back against the crystal covered stone wall, sliding down as they snort through both their nose and mouth. 

Aofil doesn’t feel bad though. Laughter is good for you. They’ve probably added like ten or so years on Frisk’s life from today, so whatever throat pain they experience now is negligible. Nothing a nice mug of hot Golden Flower tea can’t fix instantly. Net positive, which might be necessary once Frisk gets going on that CORE cake. The glaze alone looks to be sweeter than Muffet’s-

Aofil clears their throat.

The glaze alone looks to be sweet enough to rot the teeth in the blink of an eye.

“A...h...a….h….a...h.”

Although again, with the amount of times Frisk has run out of steam from laughing today, they might need that amount of energy to replenish themselves. Their stomach is gonna hurt like hell from the laughter, so what’s stomach pain from excessive cake added on top of that?

Anyways, now Aofil can exit the scene unnoticed since Frisk is busy filling their lungs with air only to immediately shoot it out afterwards.

Hopefully it doesn’t look bad on the cameras that Aofil is just leaving Frisk to their overwhelming laughter, but had it been a problem then Toriel would’ve already been here with fire blossoming in both her hands. She was very quick with another set of dry clothes for Frisk after they fell through those bridge flowers, so hurrying over here, which is closer to the Lab, would be even quicker for her. What is it now? The third pair of striped sweaters and brought pants that Frisk is wearing? 

Surely the monsters didn’t pack any more sets of clothing for Frisk to wear during their birthday. Toriel must be washing and drying them off in the Lab. Or maybe it was one of those boxes left behind? Aofil should ask once Sans shortcuts them back there.

“toriel wants a word.”

Speak of the devil. 

“since we’re all good friends i told her she could ask for a bit more than one from you.”

A jesting devil.

“That the reason why you seem a bit more hurried than usual, Sans?”

Speak of the jevil?

“we’re outside the lab so i go by asgore now, remember?”

Aofil is starting to regret speaking in the first place.

“but anyways, save your words for toriel.”

The gust from Sans’ shortcut barely has time to settle before Aofil is whisked away back into the glistening white hall of the Lab. Their eyes are assaulted by the jarring shift in light, and they crane their head back as their eyes narrow before adjusting. They blink hard a couple of times, and slowly they begin to see shapes again amid the large interpretative blobs of purple clouding their vision. One of the silhouettes is glaring hard at them. Had it not been for the wig and jeans shirt the white fur would’ve blended in with pristine white walls of the Lab.

Could’ve done with a smidgen smudge as to not suddenly blind everyone entering via magical teleportation.

Another thing Aofil seems to be comfortable with by now.

“Is Frisk hurt?” Toriel confronts. Not harshly, but enough that Aofil instantly knows that she’d like an answer.

NOW!

“Just laughing,” Aofil explains, still blinking out the light and overwhelming purple. “I’m their teacher dressed up as their classmate acting like said classmate years younger while straining my voice. I’d be folding in half too.”

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!” the computer speaker howls, proving Aofil’s alibi. Frisk must’ve dug deeper to find a wind numbering in the tens by now. It’s really breathtaking what Aofil’s managed with just a few lines. Quite literally, in fact.

Aofil feels proud of their acting. Not many can incapacitate a human with nothing but thick layers of make up to impersonate a childhood friend, a robotic tail that answers to commands, and only a vague understanding of what language is hip nowadays with the late teens. Aofil has chosen well in not giving into the bastardization of their native tongue these youngsters seem so fond of doing.

And to any jury that might be listening, Aofil only used the bastardization on Frisk because they were acting like a said youngster!

Toriel keeps her eyes on Aofil for an additional second before averting them back to the screen, her wig following the motion half a second later. On the screen, Asriel is shrugging back at the camera while standing with his hands deep inside his pockets and watching Frisk roll around on the gravely floor. After half a minute of him looming above his writhing sibling he again shrugs to the camera and walks back off screen further down the path.

“Catharsis is just spilling out of that kid,” Aofil can’t help but comment with a friendly chuckle of their own. “Relief with each chortle. Maybe a bit over the top, but I mean...look at me.”

Aofil presents a goofy smile that has Undyne and Alphys covering their mouths.

“I had to avoid looking at my reflection in the water while I waited for Frisk. Otherwise I’d give my position away.”

“did you know that yellow sticks out like a soar thumb amid dark blue, almost violet surrounding?” Sans asks curiously, his hands scratching his golden glued beard with half an interest. “like, for an example, tall seaweed in the waterfall?”

“Ever the observant one, Sans,” Aofil mumbles under their breath and scowl.

“Complimentary c-colors,” Alphys informs despite...no...one...asking...why…did...she...even...

She closes the face lid, but it pops open again from her heavy sigh. Undyne does a favor and closes it again while smiling earnestly. “Just like you and me, Alphee! Brain and muscle!”

The large colorful squares on Alphys’ face plate light up bright red, and she spins around on her wheel, exposing a large flip button.

Aofil’s tail bounce with childish excitement. It’s very tempting. Just a quick flick and… and… Alphys EX? 

Sounds cool!

Although, Aofil’s expectations are tempered like ice on hot coal as they realize that it’ll probably be something akin to Mew Mew season one instead of the designs from season two. Compared to the robots in season two, season one’s designs are watered down.

And speaking of water. Water hitting the back of Aofil’s sweater, that is. They look up to find Frisk’s earlier set of clothes hung to dry on a taut power cable. Not dry just yet, evidently, and Aofil takes a step aside to avoid further moistening.

The water drops splashing against the tile floor next to the base of the computer though…

Maybe Aofil should watch the screen for now. It’ll do better for their anxiousness.

“What’s a star?” a strange beige monsters asks a passing Frisk rubbing the rim of their eye blackened by a telescope so kindly offered for use by a grinning Asriel. “Can you touch it?”

Mettaton clears his throat, informing the Lab of his blessed presence as he sits in front of the mirror in Radentim’s chair combing his long and flowing ears. 

“Can you eat it?”

He does so again, louder. His combing slows to a halt as he tilts his head angrily towards the group of costumed monsters and single human trying their best to ignore him.

“Can you kill it?”

The cough is softer, just enough to be heard, but not enough to imply importance to the last statement said by the beige puppet.

“Are you a star?”

And back up louder again the cough goes. Very similar to what Toriel expresses on occasions.

An opinion Aofil is fully well comfortable with never expressing to her.

They’re unsuccessful in keeping their smile hidden, and Mettaton quickly catches on. He leans into Aofil’s view, and they make the mistake of turning their head. “Don’t you agree?” Mettaton asks softly with his hands clasped on his purple robe ever to Toriel’s annoyance. She might not have noticed the coughs, but Mettaton’s imitation of her she notice like a single missing crumb on her pie set to cool on the windowsill.

With universal contempt and unbelievable disgust. 

Undyne saws the air in front of her throat while grimacing hard towards Aofil. Her extreme expression doesn’t jell well with her large prosthetic nose, and it almost begins to lose suction from her forehead as she exaggerates the ramifications of Aofil’s apparently life threatening blunder of acknowledging Mettaton’s cry for attention.

“Is Nice Cream Guy a puppet or not?” they try to divert by nodding against the computer screen showing Frisk stepping up to an ice cream stand with a blue bunny springing to life behind it, his ears straightening as he greets friendly.

“Nice cream! It’s the frozen treat that warms your heart.”

Aofil remember the first time they bumped into that Nice Cream stand. Puppet or not, the smile the puppet drags is familiar. For starters, it’s not stretching the fur and skin like a damned tug of war between metal and artificial skin. If only Frisk were to, allegedly, pull their face off like Aofil did Radentim’s previous work with them as that Mew Mew character, then Aofil could compare the horrified face still left on Nice Cream Guy.

“Three Nice Creams?” Toriel shouts at the screen. “I really hope one is for your brother and the other for courtesy, young human!”

“Maybe it’s for the punch card?”

From the way Toriel’s sneering Aofil also hopes that one is for Asriel, for Frisk’s sake. Toriel could probably melt the Nice Creams just by staring at them hard through the monitor the way she’s about to fume like Grillby. And then Frisk’s clothes would be stained and they’d have to get another pair which would…

And so on and so on.

“Nice Cream?” Asriel perks up as one is shoved into his hand. He quickly unwraps it and slides the sticky wrapper into his pocket, to Toriel’s dismay. Frisk puts theirs into the same pocket, furthering Toriel’s scowl.

“What else are they gonna do?” Aofil says carefully. “Litter?”

That seems to have gotten through to Toriel, but only a little. She crosses her...human...arms, and shakes her head with mouth in a strict pout. “I guess you’re right about that, Aofil.”

“H-he is supposed to b-be Sans,” Alphys stammers out. “N-no offen-nse,” she hastily adds while waving her hands in front of her.

“some taken,” Sans informs with a quick shrug.

“NONE HERE!” Papyrus also informs.

...Good to know.

Frisk beckons Asriel to follow them, and the two head off towards the cyan glowing exit to the next area of the Waterfall.

However, as the camera shifts over, presenting a labyrinth of glowing turquoise water silently moving underneath wooden bridges that cast long and wavy shadows upon the already dark walls, the two siblings are nowhere to be found. 

Alphys scoots forwards on her wheel to cycle back to the camera before, but still not Frisk or Sans dressed Asriel. She opens up her now slightly brown face plate to reveal her lowered brow. “W-where did the t-two go?”

She jumps back forward again, but the same still and calm visage is showing. Long tree glowing is a bright gradient from the bottom of their trunks from where they suck up the glowing water. Patches of ankle high grass highlighted with the same shining turquoise color swaying over a black mattress of rock and stone, like streaks of meteorite against the night sky.

Where could they be?

“We put other cameras in that room, right?” Toriel asks while trying not to sound hurried. Her mouth flaps faster than her words can escape it though, so it’s not exactly subtle. “Switch to one of those.”

“Same thing,” Alphys mutters through her metallic fingers pressed up against her lips and chin. Aofil has to look away as she flips through the different cameras a bit too fast for their taste. Their head is already beginning to split from the intense Lab light again, so watching the flickering screen any longer will surely be even more hell on their head.

“Could you pour some water for me?” they ask Papyrus while shrugging their shoulders. “Care to give me a hand?”

His fur covered one flies up to his even more fur covered chin which he rubs while emitting a thoughtful hum. “HOW WOULD ASRIEL REACT TO THIS PUN?”  
Aofil didn’t really mean for it to be one. “You’re still in the Lab,” they remind amid the frantic flashes of colors consuming their surroundings as Alphys continues flipping through the cameras. “You’re still you in here.”

“I STILL WANT TO PRACTICE,” Papyrus explains as he begins pouring a glass for Aofil. The glued fur on his chin stands up from the static created by him rubbing his hand on it. It’s almost like a tuft of white beard. It kinda suits him.

Would it suit Asriel though?

“LET’S SEE...” Papyrus again begins to think, folding his elbow over his other arm as he again begins to think. He’s yet to give Aofil the cup of water. Aofil should ask for it, but the way he’s in such deep thought… Aofil doesn’t want to be rude and wake him up from it. They’re still quite thirsty though. Maybe they can…

“I GOT IT!” Papyrus exclaims, knocking away Aofil’s tail just about to touch its tip on the plastic cup filled with water as he sweeps his hand in triumph. The sound has everyone turning their necks for a second, seeing Aofil stumble for balance, before returning to their search for Frisk and Asriel. “GOOD ONE!” he says with as neutral an emotion as he can. 

Not really at all.

“Sounds like him,” Aofil still says before none too subtly nodding towards Papyrus’ hand again. “The water?”

“OH! YES!” he remembers with a slap on his forehead. He holds the cup out for Aofil, who after some hesitation to come to terms with what they have to do, leans forwards and puts their lips on the cup.

“Would you kindly-” Toriel asks softly with her hand placed ever so softer on Aofil’s shoulder. Her feet, however, stand not so softly on Aofil’s tail, and a sharp tug is shot into their spine.

The static holding up the fur on Papyrus’ chin bends in submission to the cascading water splashing against him from Aofil’s startled jump.

Toriel’s...human...hands soot up to her face, covering the horrific realization blossoming on it. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

Aofil needs a second or so to come back down. They stare in shock and horror at their tail, but luckily it seems to be fine. No visible harm done.

Good.

My precious…

“Aofil?”

They look up from their tail. “Hm?”

“Are you fine?” Toriel asks while reaching for some paper towels. “Did it hurt?”

“Just became aware, that’s it,” Aofil replies. They don’t see any yellow paint running over their eyes, so perhaps they got lucky with the water spillage.

Papyrus though looks like he took water over his head.

Which he did.

Toriel hands Papyrus a couple of squares from the paper towel. “Here you go,” she says warmly. “Forgive me, it should’ve looked where I stepped.”

“DON’T WORRY, UM…TEACHER! I, THE BOSS MONSTER ASRIEL, HAVE BEEN THROUGH WORSE!” 

Papyrus dries himself off as best as he could. Meanwhile, Aofil and Toriel share worried looks.

“UNDYNE ONCE HOSED ME DOWN WHEN I COMPLAINED ABOUT THE WATER IN MY BOTTLE BEING TOO WARM!”

Had Undyne not had any make-up on her she’d been pale as a ghost, if not paler. Toriel’s vengeance is dampened due to her relief from Papyrus not delving deeper though, so perhaps she’ll live to see tomorrow. 

“Anyways,” Aofil says after stretching their tail for a bit to make sure it is undamaged. “You were saying?” they ask Toriel, who stops in the midst of rolling out a couple of new paper squares for Papyrus.

“Oh,” she perks up very similar to Asriel while simultaneously ripping the measured amount of paper towel squares.

To be fair, it would be Asriel perking up very similar to her.

“Yes, would you kindly go with Sans to your next position? Just in case you happen to spot Frisk and Asriel?”

Sure. “Sure.”

Maybe Aofil can get a drink from one of the streams flowing down the cavern walls. If it’s good enough for MTT to bottle and sell it should be good enough for Aofil to drink normally.

Wow…they must be really thirsty to consider that... 

“water we falling to?”

Aofil’s brows sink in concordance with the sudden lowered temperature. They tilt their head down to Sans, who looks up with a smile. The empty puddle devoid of the water the gust from his shortcut pushed away begins to seep back underneath his feet, and he takes a small step aside.

“i-”

“Don’t,” Aofil interrupts.

Sans shrugs. “just wanted to-”

“I said don’t.”

The two hold their eyes locked. The sound of the rushing water near and far makes the stare a bit more intense than it really is.

Sans smack his non-existing lips and tilts his head to the side while scoffing softly. “really makes you pond-er.”

Aofil looks down at their ankles and feet soaked in the water that Sans’ smugly satisfied shortcut sent splashing against. They heave a tired sigh.

But at least they’re alone now and can get some water. They spot a nice little crevice pouring through crystallized cracks covered in cold water. They take a step towards it, hearing the thin metallic crinkling as they put their foot down and-

Wait a minute.

Aofil turns their neck around, “Frisk? There you a-” but their words are plugged shut as Frisk shoves a Nice Cream into Aofil’s mouth.

“Let’s go,” they snicker while motioning Aofil to follow them.

Great…

Now Aofil’s gonna get even thirstier from this Nice cream. Taste nice though, a nice mix of blueberry and-

Aaarrrgghh!

Brain freeze!


	35. Waterfallen human

“Cou yo ho dis fa a couble o secovs?”

Frisk’s step is halted by their ears forcing them to stop. “Sorry?” their perplexed face asks as they turn around slowly to their slobbering teacher in a yellow monster costume featuring a tail.

Aofil ungracefully tries to slurp up as much of the escaping Nice Cream as they can, but it’s like trying to slurp of a rapidly receding ebb that’s always just out of reach from the desperately stretching lips. Just as the sea has its salt, so does the Nice Cream. It’s really beginning to not only assault Aofil’s mind by frozen means, but through salty means as well. It tastes good, that’s not the problem. The salt is worsening their thirst though, and they’d really appreciate it if Frisk could...just...please... 

“Coud you-”

A silence birthed out of terrible shock sinks over the two humans as if the entirety of Mt. Ebott were to collapse upon the two. Time stops for the two humans, terrified beyond being capable of action. Breaths held like babies out of harms way.

But time is still in abundance for the event entire nations would join in prayer to prevent happening. 

Yet, the horror continues before the two stunned and shocked humans’ eyes until...

Ploff.

The Nice Cream’s impact may be soft, like how it was served, but the sound it made? Although not ear shattering, its reverberations ring out the most acute of laments. It’s deafening in its consequences yet silent beyond any meaningful distance. The sound in its stead is of two gasps, drawn through mouths agape with terror. 

Just as the fall of the Nice Cream, the gasps quickly fade away as if never have been summoned from this frightening event. Replacing it, again fighting against the distant rushing of the Waterfall’s waterfalls. Two hearts shatter like thin sheet of Snowdin ice crashing against the rocky floor.

“Dammit,” Aofil voices without emotion. Theirs have been drained, there’s none left for them to express. 

Will it ever come back for them?

“What a shame,” Frisk offers in this dire situation. Heartfelt, even as their own isn’t capable of feeling at this moment.

Rage, rage against this unjust crisis! Frisk’s strength even in the most hopeless of situations still shines like a beacon of hope amid this dark hour. Their determination to keep going even when everything stands stalwart against them. 

“Damn shame.” 

Their condolence flutters like a lone candle left naked to face the icy storm tasting of blueberry as it relentlessly roars inversely proportional to how the Nice Cream ploffed as it landed.

“Yeah...” falls out of Aofil’s slacked jaw. “Damn shame.”

How could one ever return to a normal state of mind after such a-

“We can get you a new one if you want?” Frisk offers while pointing back the way they presumably came from. Quick shrug bounced as if nothing. “I still have the punch card for a free one.”

“Nah,” Aofil denies through their wrinkled nose. They smack their tongue, the impact of which reminding their head that it’s hurting. “I think I might help myself to some of Mettaton’s Reserve for free instead, actually.”

Aofil again turns to face the glistening water flushing between the crystal crevices behind them, their mouth watering for the water. Like a passionate kiss they angle their lips to the source of such bountiful healing of their headache.

Like nectar it begins rejuvenating their tired head.

“You know that the water in Mettaton’s Reserve is just tap water at a markup, right?”

A glare harder than the crystals bored into the cavern walls is thrown at Frisk from the annoyed teacher turning their head so fast it leaves a subtle green hint from their yellow face paint rapidly turning like a rapid streak of a paint brush on a dark blue canvas. Aofil’s turns their scowl over their shoulder, refreshing water dripping from their chin like the first formed cloud of a rainstorm. “Can I please just drink in peace?” they ask as much as they scold. “I’m really thirsty.”

Frisk throws up their hands and spins around on their heels while keeping the flat of their hands up in surrender. Whether they’ve got that from either Sans or Asriel is a question saved for when Aofil is not trying to soothe their skull about to force itself out of their head.

Aofil takes a fresh inhale of the cold and humid air before pushing their mouth back to the flowing crevice of water. As they, finally, begin to drink properly they feel each and every minute drop that flows down their gravely throat. Like magic, maybe partly because it might be some of it being taken from the crystals, the water soothes their headache combined from their thirst and sharp brain freeze like Toriel’s warm and motherly hand gently pushing away the hurt. 

Oh yes, that hit the spot.

Aofil retracts their craned neck while singing their relief through a pleased sigh. Their tensed shoulders begin to relax, and their tail curls up through the same relieved feeling up along their back. 

“You done?” Frisk asks with their arms still up and facing away. Their cheek peeks the slightest as they subtly turn their head. “Quenched your thirst?”

“Yes, I’m done,” Aofil informs after sucking up the few drops remaining around their mouth. Better to do that before the water has time to work on their make-up. The drops have a slight rubbery taste to them though, so Aofil blows them our of their mouth. They can weather the slightly off taste left behind by it though, and if they were to rinse their mouth from the taste it would just leave more drops on their lips and chin and the cycle would perpetuate.

They’ll be fine. It’s not like they ate moss or anything.

Nice Cream though, that they ate.

For a little while…

Like a single light blue and sugary gravestone on a field of desolate rock, what’s left of the Nice Cream lies in a bent pile next to a puddle that’s beginning to cloud from the streak of melted confectionery pouring into it. Its stick marks the grave of this gruesome event that will stand for generations to come.

If it crystallizes, that is. Aofil might put it as a conversation starter in their living room.

“And this one is from where I dressed up as one of my students while imitating him at a younger age to another of my students for their eighteenth birthday where their family and friends decided the best way to celebrate that important age was to remind them of when the heaviest burden was put on them.”

Alright, maybe not.

Would Aofil want to leave the Nice Cream behind to form a rather inconvenient bump in the path that would be quite easy to stumble upon?

Literally.

Although, judging by the way it’s collapsed on itself after barely a minute or so, that might not be the most likely of event. It’s also beginning to melt, its milky content snaking away from the small mound of blueberry flavor and coloring. The light blue treat mixes with the dark blue water to make a rather subtle off colored blue. Aofil wonders how it would’ve been if the Nice Cream melted into the glowing cyan water. Would it cloud too? Maybe it wo-

Two loud snaps originating from a yellow hand appears less than a Nice Cream stick’s length from their face, and their head instinctively pulls back. “Wha?” they mumble.

Was it their own hand? No, wait, those are still stuck inside their costume.

Oh right, it was Frisk!

“We can go back and get another one?” Frisk proposes again while taking a suggesting step in the direction of the cyan glow sneaking around the corner as if the early sun through a window. “You’re looking like you’d pick it up and finish it if I wasn’t here.”

Aofil glances down at the Nice Cream again.

It does look-

No.

No no no no no.

No!

Stop.

“Nah, I’m fine,” they answer as casually as possible.

“Should we keep going then?” Frisk again suggests with an implying step and hinting tilt of their head and eyebrow.

“Sure.”

“Then let’s go,” Frisk shines an amused smile, “MK.”

Right, back into character for Aofil. “Yoooo! Man, Undyne is sooooooo cool. She beats up bad guys and NEVER-”

“I was kidding.” Frisk throws a dismissive hand against Aofil. “Just be you for now, please. Not because of any laughter or anything. I just… I just want to talk with you a bit.”

“But-”

“I’ll go back to playing along after this,” Frisk explains with a nod as promise, “with the others. For now though, just be you, Aofil. There’s something I want to talk to you about.” They angle their head further along the path, deeper into Waterfall. “Something I want to talk to a human about. Walk with me?”

Alright? “Sure.” Aofil throws a nod down the path. “After you.”

Frisk drags a thankful smile and takes lead. Aofil quickly jogs up to them just before Frisk turns the dark blue corner. “Where’s Asriel, by the way?” they shoot over a bit less subtly than they wanted it to be.

“Should be waiting at the Lab now, I’m guessing,” Frisk answers with a casual throw of their hand towards where Hotland is. “Probably doing his best to not drown from mom’s overflowing questioning.”

“You mind if I make a bit of a puddle with some of my own? I mean, you should be used to getting your feet wet by now. Feet, legs, torso, head.”

“I’ve been moist my entire life,” Frisk answers with a hard stare.

The tone combined with Frisk’s very deliberate choice of words gets the message across to Aofil. They should drop this for now.

“Where did you and Asriel go, by the way?” Aofil instead pries. “We didn’t see you on the cameras.”

Frisk sidesteps a couple of drops falling from up on high crashing violently onto the floor below. They rummage a bit inside their sweater through their collar, and fish out the same remote Asriel used in Snowdin. “Borrowed this from Asriel,” they say while waving the remote like a fan. “It can control the cameras.”

Alright… “Wh-”

“Why?” Frisk interrupts as if knowing that Aofil would ask. They shrug dramatically. “I don’t know. Alphys might, but I haven’t met her yet to ask her. There’s like ten or so more buttons I haven’t the foggiest about what they do. Like, listen.” Frisk puts the remote up to their face while squinting hard to attempt reading. “Relinquish puppeteering,” they state with a slight shake of their wrinkled head. “Firstly, why so many letters on such a small button? Secondly, what does any of that means?”

Aofil shrugs. “I don’t know.” Technically they’re not lying. They tilt their head up to where they put one camera up yesterday. It’s blended into the environment, as per Alphys’ request, but Aofil can still spot it among the rocky outcrops surrounding it. Angled so that it would keep the entire length of this section of the trail in one view. A bit of a lens distortion at the top and bottom of the path, but it was within acceptable parameters.

“The Lab can’t see us now,” Frisk explains while putting the remote back. “Just a loop from five minutes ago. That much I’ve figured out from the buttons.”

Why would that be a function on the remote? Why, Alphys? Why?

“I’m guessing that was the case with you and Asriel just before you met me again, right?” Aofil hazards confidentially. Should go without saying, but Frisk wanted to talk so...

The birthday human nods as they smack their lips. “Yup.” Their affirmation echoes along with their loud smacking.

“Just to talk? Just the two of you?”

Another echo reminiscent of opening a vintage bottle of Royal Purple.

“What did the two of you talk about then? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Just talked,” Frisk shrugs. “About...what’s happened, you know?”

“What’s happened, specifically?”

“About the two of us.” Frisk eyes grow a bit distant. They almost stumble on a crystallized piece of rock, but their feet missed it just barely.

“You haven’t talked about it before?” Aofil continues prying while carefully steering a more vacant Frisk by taking a step closer or further away.

“Of course we have,” Frisk sighs out as they throw their neck back, “but this was more...talking… I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.” Their head comes down with another sigh.

Aofil allows Frisk a couple of seconds to think. They’re not in a hurry.

“We talked about when I first traveled the Underground...”

“First first or just first?” Aofil asks to clarify.

“Yes.”

Nevermind then.

“It’s all kinda a blur, you know? It’s hard to put each small detail exactly where it belongs. I know what I felt during my...walks...back then, but it’s like trying to put a piece on so many puzzles, and with each one the piece only not fitting if I step back and see the whole picture, but then when I step back it all becomes as one single color and...”

Frisk stops walking.

Aofil does too.

“Again,” Frisk says while their face bends uncomfortably, “it’s hard to say, any of this. Asriel and I we...talked. That’s what we did. I know exactly what we said to each other, but it’s difficult.” They scoff, almost angrily. “It’s hard to say it again.”

“Already packed it up?” Aofil offers.

“I’ve jumped on that briefcase so many times and finally gotten it to close...” Frisk points behind them, at the weathered stone statue carrying an umbrella. “You and Sans came just as we rounded the corner into that room behind the statue.”

Aofil’s heard a bit about that statue. What it represented back when the Barrier was still sealed and Asriel was still…

No, keep it in the past. Although, with what Frisk is saying, perhaps the past has already been dug up.

“I replaced the umbrella in the statue’s hand,” Frisk says quietly. “The old one was so old, Asriel told me. He wondered if I would replace it for him, and I did.”

“What did he say when you replaced it?”

“He thanked me.” Frisk nods to themselves. “We hugged afterwards. It felt like the first time. When he was-” They stop and put their hands over their mouth and nose. Carefully they inhale through the gaps in their tensed fingers. “Sorry,” their shaky voice say during the waving exhale. “I...”

“Take another if you feel like you have to.” 

Again, Aofil’s not in a hurry.

Frisk collects themselves again. And again. And again. Each time, their rugged exhale has their hands quiver more and more.

Until a single tear casts its shining reflection underneath Frisk’s eye.

“Sounds like you need to hug him a bit more,” Aofil decides to gamble. Frisk’s breaths are harsh, true, but they don’t sound sad. 

They sound relieved. 

The lonesome tear is knocked off Frisk’s cheek as they scoff a chortle. It leaves behind a streak of glittering water as it arcs like a small crystal before landing and assimilating into a nearby puddle.

“I’m gonna hug all of you,” Frisk coughs out. “I’m gonna hug every single one of you for all of this. You all look so fucking silly I can barely keep myself together.”

Swearing? From Frisk?

“We went with Riverperson to New Home so that I could hang up the hat from Napstablook. It’s already had its fair share of close calls and I don’t want to risk it further,” Frisk explains with a slight twirl to their hand. It comes falling down as their smile does immediately afterwards as they take a long inhale. “We passed where I died. Just walked right over it. You know what we talked about though?” Frisk shoots over to Aofil like a shovel full of sharp spikes. They recoil back from the question, dipping the heel of their foot into a muddy plash. “We talked about how ill fitting dad’s Papyrus armor fits! He looks stupid! So stupid! The stupidest I have ever seen him look!”

Aofil’s neck and upper body cranes back as Frisk’s borderline maniacal expression is thrust upon them. Their tail now almost carries the weight of two humans as Frisk pushes their hands down on Aofil’s shoulders as they lean over, smiling cheek to cheek, their fringe, wet from their time spent in the Waterfall, hangs over their eyes.

A bit creepily, to be honest.

“It doesn’t matter!”

Aofil can only blink in response.

“Me having died doesn’t matter any longer! None of the bad that happened when I died in the Underground matters! It’s amazing!”

Aofil’s tail begins to shake violently as Frisk rolls the collar of Aofil’s sweater up into their clenching fists, dragging more of their weight up on the costumed human.

Perhaps Frisk is feeling a bit too relieved. Their smile has gone from joy to eccentric, almost maniacal. It’s starting to remind Aofil of the way that bunny puppet’s face stretched, and that’s not good, to vastly understate.

“I can’t describe to you how happy I am, Aofil! I am-”

Like the sound of Asgore clearing the thickest branches from the trees in his garden in early spring, Aofil’s tail snapping creates a deafening crack that’s only overruled by the loud thud and splash mixed with the subsequent pained groan from the two humans crashing down onto the wet and hard Waterfall floor in a flail of limbs.

Thank everything that is holy that the cameras are on a loop. Otherwise… No, Aofil’s not even gonna give that thought the time of day. They’re just gonna roll Frisk off them and see if they can’t lift themselves up on carefully with their tail. It cracked pretty badly, but maybe it can still move.

“Sorry,” Frisk says after a pained cough. They push their hand up to their forehead as they lean their back against the wall behind them. “I’m...” Their other hand comes up to their face, and they heave a weary sigh into their grimy and muddy palms. “I think the memories might be getting to me. It’s starting to blur.”

The memo-

Aofil’s balance is swiftly pushed down the list of priorities as they shoot up from their knees up on their feet. They stumble hard over to Frisk, slamming their shoulder into the rocky wall next to the bent over human. “Frisk? What do you mean by memories?”

Frisk shakes their head while keeping their hands still. “No, not like that...I think. I’m feeling overwhelmed, that’s all.”

That’s not something that’s only all. Not the memories. 

Dammit.

“Do you want to sit down somewhere that isn’t soaking wet?” Aofil suggests. “Catch your breath for a bit? Not here though. You’re sitting in a puddle, Frisk.”

Frisk angles their body away, but their pants are already darkened by water. “...Yeah,” they nod. “Not here. It’s too wet. Next room.”

Their tone really has changed. Aofil doesn’t like this. It’s too reminiscent of the confusion the monsters and humans had when the memories came haunting. This almost breathy speech that’s always teetering on asking “What?” to question itself. Face tensed into a perplexed frown as the mind is spending too much effort wondering and questioning what is true and what isn’t. Trying to separate oil from water, but never managing to.

“Hazy,” Frisk says as they stand up. “I’m feeling hazy.”

Aofil catches Frisk on their shoulder. “I got you,” they assure. Frisk’s arm runs over Aofil’s neck for support. “I got you, kiddo,” they repeat as they take a first step. Immediately they’re reminded about their ignored balance, and stumble.

“Don’t fall on your face again, MK.”

Aofil waits for a chuckle from Frisk, but none comes. Are they so far gone now? Can’t even tell that Aofil’s in a costume?

Fucking hell, this might actually be serious.

“Yo,” Aofil says without even thinking about it, “maybe we should call Toriel? You seem a bit pale, Frisk.”

“Who are you talking to?”

A large drop of water hits the back of Frisk’s head, and it slumps over. Their hand clutches at Aofil’s shoulder.

Yeah, this is officially serious.

Aofil eases Frisk down onto the ground. They’ve reached the dry part of Waterfall now, the overlook towards New Home. It’s gray castle and scenery is tinted almost turquoise from the surrounding crystals. The jagged from of the rocky outcrops stand dark and ominous against the soothing nostalgic form of the castle along with its almost pulsating light blue color. A lukewarm breeze surrounds the humans from the way towards Hotland.

“Give me the remote, Frisk,” Aofil asks carefully as they let Frisk sit up on their own. “I’ll get Sans over here to help heal you.”

With a heaving sigh and a clearing cough, Frisk reaches into their sweater and pulls out the remote. After pushing a button with some considerable effort, they bounce it a few times in their hand as while gazing into the distant shapes of New Home bathing in its muted palette.

“Don’t throw it.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Another breeze flutters by, this time from Waterfall, bringing with it colder air that clashes with the warmth from Hotland. The resulting gust has Frisk’s hair dancing as if static beyond belief. Once the gust has subsided, they turn to Aofil, who pulls back. Their fringe has split from Frisk’s eyes like a pair of heavy theater curtains.

No...

“It’s been a while since we talked.”

Why?

“Sit with me, please.”

“No!”

The sound of smattering, almost like rain, follows the stressed outcry. The puddles behind Aofil’s heavy breathing torso dance from the small layer of water knocked from the ceiling, rippling out into waves that swell up on the road.

A silence hangs against the splendor of the view from the outlook. A quiet against the roaring beauty stretching its glimmer from crystals sparkling like newly formed stars.

But for none to see.

It’s only yellow painted face to yellow born face.

Eye to eye.

“How?”

Crimson to crimson.

“Frisk told me you were gone, Chara!”


	36. Twinted fate

“Frisk says a lot of things.”

“Don’t!”

“They’re-”

“SHUT IT!”

Aofil’s voice will be heard throughout the entirety of the Underground. It might even pierce the insulated walls and doors of the Lab.

But let it. 

Let it topple the CORE cake. Let it shake loose all the crystals visible to make a brief star fall that will be witnessed by none. No human, no monster, no camera.

No living human, that is.

Chara keeps Frisk’s gaze set on the large castle in the distance. Theirs would be the only one to see the star fall never to be seen again. The impact as the crystals would shatter against the floor would be only heard by them. Aofil, despite standing right next to Chara, with lips curled in anger and eyes furrowed into a hateful scowl, would hear nothing. Their ears are too flushed with the rush of their heart beating with rage.

“Where. Is. Frisk?” Aofil spits from the bottom of their soul. The words chafe at the inside of their throat like razors, cutting their tongue so that it curls along with their lips into their peering frown. “What have you done with them?”

Chara tilts Frisk’s head down.

“Let me just-”

“No!” Aofil whips their tail around Frisk’s shoulders, turning the human around to face their heavy and sharp breathing. “There’s no ‘you’, Chara. We said our goodbyes.”

“We haven’t.”

They...

No. …No they didn’t.

That doesn’t matter though! Not now!

“You seem really damn comfortable being in charge, Chara. That wasn’t the tone you had last time! Don’t you dare tell me that things have changed.” Aofil drags a confused and fearful breath through their clenched teeth. “Why aren’t you quivering at the notion of taking control away from Frisk again?”

Please don’t say that things have changed…

Frisk’s burning red eyes tilt down. “I hugged Asriel.”

I?

No…

“How long?” Aofil’s frozen expression asks. The words spill out of their mouth like water in an overly filled cup.

Filled with exhaustion and anger.

Chara pushes the slump tail off Frisk’s shoulder. It lands with a heavy thud on the cold ground.

“They’ll be back.”

“That was not what I asked.”

“It’s what you wanted to know though,” Chara retorts before sliding one of Frisk’s extended legs back to lean their chin down on the water logged knee. “They’ll be back soon.”

“How long?” Aofil asks again. “I want an answer.”

Chara closes Frisk’s eyes for a brief moment. “Until I feel that I’m done,” comes a solemn answer accompanied by a sigh. “Signed Frisk.”

“No.” Aofil shakes their head. “That’s too vague for me, Chara. Bring Frisk back now.”

“I don’t feel that I’m done though.”

“You hugged Asriel,” Aofil feels that they have to remind. “That’s enough.”

Just leave!

“Not for me.”

“That’s not what I took away from it last time we spoke. I’m telling you it is enough, Chara.” Aofil slices the air in front of them with their tail.”I’m not in the mood to take any damn chances right now. Not now, not ever again. Go. Away. Leave Frisk so they can enjoy their birthday. Leave Frisk so they can enjoy their life. Your words, Chara. Go! Away!”

The last words are cast like curses from Aofil’s tongue. They don’t care though. None of this right now! No soul stuff, no memorybox solution.

NOTHING!

“We’ve never really said goodbye to each other,” Chara says with a smile summoned with difficulty. They can’t even muster it enough to tilt it over to Aofil. “Just wanted to say it.”

“Goodbye. Now go.”

Chara looks away. “Not really what I had in mind...”

“Too bad. It is what you get. I didn’t get the Nice Cream, but I’m gonna be happy with the slight taste I had. Go away now, Chara. Bring Frisk back.”

“Comparing saying goodbye to your twin with Nice Cream...” Frisk’s eyes close again, hiding the crimson color behind a pair of thin eyelids that open after a short while. “Frisk still wants me to be satisfied.”

“And you should be satisfied with that, Chara. You said that you cared so much for Frisk that the mere thought of taking something away from them hurt you. You told me how much you hated to be in control back in that bathroom, but here you are arguing to still stay in control. That makes me really worried, and I can’t imagine the worry Frisk is feeling right now.”

Chara puts Frisk’s hand on their chest, gently grasping the purple and blue striped sweater. “They trust me, Aofil. They’re not worried.”

“I am not gonna negotiate with you on this, Chara. Last time I spoke to you Frisk almost died, and so did I. It’s even worse now that you’ve interacted with Asriel. Wasn’t he the one Frisk and you wanted to absolutely not know that you still existed? Huh?” 

Aofil throws an ungraceful “Fuck!” over their shoulder as they would a sneeze to be courteous. Now though? It’s because they don’t want to look at Chara puppeteering Frisk. It brings back too much. 

THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE EVERYTHING PUT BEHIND THEM!

“He doesn’t know.”

“And how do you know?” Aofil snarls. No, you know what? “You know what? No, don’t answer. Let Frisk answer instead! Get. Away. Chara.”

“I know how you feel.”

“No.” Aofil again shakes their head. “No, you don’t.” They squat down and force eye contact. It’s the one and only time they’re gonna do this. “And I’m not going to explain why. I am not going to say anything more to you.” They poke the tip of their tail against Frisk’s chest. “We all need to blow off steam today. All of us, including Frisk. Them mostly. This is all for them, and you’ve already sullied it for me, and for Frisk. If you have an inkling of what you said back when the last time you took over you’ll bring Frisk back out right now.”

“Last time?”

Aofil’s eyes shoot wide opened from their angrily narrowed state. Shock now holds them open with force, not allowing Aofil to close them and lie that this is all just a bad dream. They have to stare at the truth with a single question swirling inside their mind.

“Last time wasn’t the last time you took over, Chara?”

With a pained chuckle, Chara puts up one of Frisk’s hands behind their unruly hair, brushing it away from the red eyes shining like two sinister dots. “Sorry, Frisk. Slipped your tongue,” Chara apologizes while again moving Frisk’s eyes over to the castle in the distance.

“How many times, Chara?” Aofil asks as their mouth clamps shut in fury. The one time they did in that bus station bathroom was already one too damn many, and now they’re telling Aofil they’ve done it more? “Answer me!”

Chara gently puts Frisk’s hand on Aofil’s tail, “I feel that,” and-

“There is no you, Chara!”

Aofil pushes down Frisk’s body onto the ground. They slam their knee down next to Frisk’s shoulder. It’s gonna hurt like hell when the adrenaline wears off, but that’s something to worry about after Frisk is back. Aofil bends down their painted face down to Frisk’s, their thick layers of paint proving little resistance to the angry folds blooming on their forehead. 

“I did this once with Asriel to make sure no Flowey was left behind,” Aofil snaps bitterly. “I pushed the face of what I’d done so much to bring back into the ground to make sure it stayed that way. I almost died, had my soul and body fused by magic! In that moment I had to make sure that he would be back. Not Flowey, not anyone else but Asriel would be left afterwards. If it was Flowey, then he’d pretend to be Asriel. He’d live his life as Asriel whether he liked it or not!”

The yellow tail trashes against the ground, whipping up dust behind Aofil. “I trust Frisk, but I don’t trust Chara. Whoever you were before, you are Chara now, and I’ll be damned if I let that go on. Frisk is the person that should inhabit that body. I don’t care who is behind the eyes, but as long as they’re not red, and as long as you turn your head and smile at the name Frisk and ignore when Chara is called, then all is fine!”

As if itself possessed, Aofil’s tail runs up the length of their back, breaking the teeth of the zipper as it goes. Like a second burst of rain, the metallic teeth fall around the two humans, playing a somber melody as they bounce on the rocky floor. Aofil rips their arms out of their costume, the two squished limbs screaming in discomfort after being freed from their long captivity, but the roar of the raging haze inside Aofil’s mind screams much louder.

They grab the collar of the blue and purple striped sweater of Frisk’s and wring the slumped head and face up to their own. “I’m more than willing to make sure that only Frisk remains after this, Chara. Just bring them back now, for their sake! How many times do I have to remind you that you were the one that didn’t want to be in control?”

Chara again tilts Frisk’s head towards the light blue castle in the distance. It doesn’t travel far before Aofil’s tail is firmly planted against the yellow cheek, tilting the head back so that the crimson can again face the crimson.

“Why did you come back? Why isn’t Frisk here? Why is it that you’re putting so much worry in me right now, Chara?” Aofil doesn’t understand! Their breaths turn into chokes, and they can feel their eyes begin to water with desperate tears. “I’m too tired for this. I can’t go through this again! What if the others find out? You said you could feel that Asriel was inside of me before. What if he felt your presence?”

“He didn’t.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“The other one who can tell he didn’t is Asriel then.”

Aofil throws Frisk’s body back down on the ground. Chara groans as they’re forced to brace awkwardly against the impact. They grit Frisk’s teeth and cough out the blow. 

“Maybe I’ll ask him then.”

Frisk’s eyes expand in shock. “No.” The red of their iris’ shrink to almost nothing, and the color drains from their skin, making it sickly green from the surrounding glow. “I didn’t mean that you would-”

But Aofil has already turned their now exposed back around, and with heavy steps they round the corner back into the dark blue of Waterfall. 

“Wait!”

Nope.

The yellow, panicked hand is thrown away as soon as it’s placed on Aofil’s heaving shoulders. “I told you I’d force your hand, Chara,” Aofil mutters harshly over their shoulder to Chara again reaching out for Aofil to stop.

“He doesn’t know!” they scream as Aofil again throws Frisk’s hand away from their shoulder. “Just listen to me, Aofil!”

A sharp and vicious turn from Aofil later, Chara finds themselves on the floor. Aofil looms over them, seemingly unfazed by the collision they caused by turning rapidly on their heel and tail. The splash from Chara’s fall barely has time to settle before Aofil’s voice again fills the echoing room like rushing water from a breaking dam into a plastic straw. “You see now why I can’t trust you?” they howl. “I called your bluff, Chara!”

Theirs is the crimson glowing at this point. Merely reflecting in the faded red in Frisk’s possessed eyes, blazing with anger. 

“I’m...I was trying to keep calm with Frisk’s emotions,” Chara tries to explain, pleading with hands cold and wet from being submerged into a puddle each. “Now they’re surging into me again! I can’t control them! I can’t...”

Thick tears join the drops of water from the shook ceiling, blending together as they conjoin in the puddles disturbed by the sobbing human sitting with knees tucked in and head bent down.

“At least now I know your favorite animal, Chara,” Aofil says like poison, curling their tongue in disgust with each syllable. Chara tilts Frisk’s tear streaked face up. “Crocodiles. You got the same tears as them.”

They again turn around with a heavy sigh escaping through their clenched teeth.

Aofil’s so tried of all of this!

“What can I say to convince you?” comes a choked question that would be inaudible hadn’t it been amplified by its own echo. 

Drops fall from the ceiling. Even the tiny whisper the question was summoned through is enough to shake the newly formed drops loose. Why didn’t they fall before? Why are they only now forcing Aofil to blink in reflex as they smash against their cheek, almost sizzling as they land? It’s so quiet, so weak, yet it was what it took to make the drops fall again.

Aofil tries to ignore the question, but with the echoes following them with each step, it’s like trying to walk away from the reach of the morning sun as it slowly peers over the horizon. Aofil has been burned too many times though by it. Its beautiful rays always brings with it shadows Aofil have to hide in to avoid getting burned. They’ve been burned too many times.

Too many...

Drops continue to fall though, some even plucking at the bridge of Aofil’s make-up covered nose. They shouted and shouted so much, yet that wasn’t enough for the drops to be shaken loose? 

So why did Chara’s question? 

“What can I say?”

Again drops being pestering against Aofil. Again they must ask why? It was even quieter than before. 

Aofil has to close their eyes. It’s gonna burn again if they look. It’s gonna hurt, it always does.

“I just want to say goodbye, Aofil.”

Drop. Drop. Drop.

Is Aofil crying now as well? With all the water running down their cheek?

“I just...”

So silent, yet so heavy.

Heavy…

Did Aofil mean what they shouted? What they threw in anger? Was it just hot air? Hollow words with no weight to it? Not enough to disturb the drops above?

Do they even think they meant it themselves?

“You said last time wasn’t the last time,” Aofil asks without turning their head, slowly opening one eye despite feeling their newly exposed skin frizz all over. It’s gonna burn, and it’s gonna hurt, yet they can’t stop their tongue from asking. “Why is it goodbye now?” They can’t stop themselves from wondering.

And drops begin to yet again fall.

“Because...I only come out when Frisk is about to...”

“Die,” Aofil finishes without emotion. Their eyes are completely opened now, staring directly into the sun.

Again.

As usual.

As always.

They’re not even shocked at the reveal. It’s like a purple dot dancing in their vision after too much exposure to the overwhelmingly bright light. It’s there, it’s intrusive, but Aofil doesn’t think about it.

“I’m here now so that they can heal back up. I’m keeping appearances. Well, for the others, that is. That’s why I’m in control, so that the monsters don’t have to worry.”

“From when? How long have you been in control, Chara?”

More drops.

“When Frisk was spun around in Snowdin. I was the one that let go of the heart.” Frisk’s voice grows louder with each word, accompanied with wet footsteps sloshing around in the water filled shoes slowly lifted and fearfully set down. “I also woke up with dad asking Frisk if they were alright.”

Aofil’s head tilts down as their sigh leaves them lightheaded. “And they weren’t?” they ask after replacing the air inside them clumsily. “They weren’t alright?”

“I could hear them again when Asriel and I ate at Grillby’s,” Chara explains as they stop just behind Aofil. “Then they...”

“Don’t trail off,” Aofil begs. “Please, Chara. Just say it.” They’re gonna be exposed for longer if they wave to wait. “I’m too tired to let you collect yourself, I’m sorry.”

“I..understand.” Chara takes a deep breath behind Aofil, unknowingly breathing out onto Aofil’s naked back. It’s warm.

But it’s not…

...

...It’s not burning?

“Then Frisk asked me if I wanted to walk a bit for them. They were still a bit tired from having been spun around like that. A birthday surprise for me, in a way.”

“Our birthday was months ago, Chara,” Aofil reminds solemnly over their shoulder.

“I said so as well.”

“And Frisk didn’t listen?” Of course they wouldn’t.

Aofil doesn’t have to see to feel Chara shaking Frisk’s head. The icy drops hitting their back with force tells it for them.

Again, it doesn’t burn?

“Do you remember what I gave you the last birthday we had together, Aofil?”

“No,” Aofil turns around to meet their twin, “I don’t.” They come face to face with the bright red light that have hurt them so much. Done them such incredible pain that they were forced to move away. Such pain that they had to lie to themselves just to get through the day.

But now?

It’s cold. It’s not burning, it’s cold from their newly exposed skin being introduced to Waterfall’s atmosphere.

Maybe… Maybe Aofil’s really is a monster now? Not just the costume, but inside them as well. In their heart, in their mind, in their soul. The whole of their soul, not just the part that is Asriel.

They finally kept the promise they made their parents.

Aofil has moved on.

They shine a smile towards their twin. “What did you give me?” they ask with genuine curiosity woven into their question.

And are showered in the crystalline water crashing down from above.

“A pendant,” Chara only manages to say before they pause to assert Aofil’s reaction to almost drowning in the flash flood from the cavern ceiling.

“Heart shaped,” Aofil finishes after swiping their plastered fringe from their eyes.

No red to be seen.

Frisk’s eyes again widen, this time in surprise. “So you-”

“No,” Aofil says almost as an apology. “Just a guess.”

Chara nods Frisk’s head painfully along with an even more pained smile. “Right, guess that’s my go-to gift.”

Chara’s been sitting Frisk’s body in that puddle now for quite some time. If the intent is for Frisk to get better, then Chara should probably stand up sooner rather than later. As Aofil’s gaze sweeps the water underneath Chara, they finally realize. “Oh,” Chara says before pushing up while drying off Frisk’s eyes. 

Doesn’t really help much with those wet hands, to be honest. Instead of streaks of tears there is now muddy strokes. “Could we go back to the outlook around the corner, please?” Chara asks while impatiently turning Frisk’s head a bit earlier than they planned to. “It’s...a good view. Brings me calm. I’m beginning to feel Frisk’s emotions wash over me.”

“Wash over you more?” Aofil retorts while stretching their sweater to help clean up Frisk’s cheeks.

“No,” Chara says without shaking Frisk’s head. Would be a bit rude to Aofil being nice enough to clean the runny mud with their own sweater. “Those were mine.”

Aofil still does not like Chara saying that. It sounds too much like Chara is going to stay. Aofil’s not one to lecture about lying about emotions though. 

That is something they still have to remind themselves of.

Aofil distracts the reason of their lamenting sigh by fruitlessly brushing off the brown stain on their yellow and orange striped sweater. “After you,” they shoot over casually to Chara after licking their thumb to perhaps help with the stain removal.

It does not.

Oh well.

They look up at the ceiling, at the stalactites pointing viciously down. One last drop disconnects from its mineral appendage, hitting Aofil between their eyes.

“Don’t push it,” they mouth with a slight chuckle before following Chara towards the outlook.


	37. For the first time since forever

“I do remember finding a box of yours in the attic,” Aofil says as they ease themselves down next to Chara again sitting curled up in Frisk’s legs. Their red, half-glowing eyes overlook the view of New Home and its castle in its blossoming, almost pulsating, cyan color. “Found a plastic mirror inside.”

Frisk’s arms clench the still soaked legs tightly. “I remember that one.”

“The one with the make-up on it?”

Chara move Frisk’s hand up to Frisk’s cheek, but stop halfway, restlessly rubbing the wrinkled fingers together while pinching the collar of the purple and blue striped sweater. “For my cheeks, yeah,” they whisper before returning Frisk’s hand back to the knot they have the long sleeved arms do around the wet pair of jeans.

“Mine too,” Aofil nods. They let their legs hang over the edge of the overlook. The sharp pressure against the back of their knees is the same as the edge on the plateau up on Mt Ebott at the Underground’s entrance. “It covered my cheeks as well when I looked in it.”

The Underground’s old entrance, that is. Not a lot of traffic going through there any longer. Well, to be fair, there wasn’t really a lot of traffic going through it before either. 

Less color though down here compared to at the plateau too. Not a lot of sun illuminating the nearby town. No trees acting like Mt Ebott’s beard at its foot and higher either. Same glimmer down here in the Underground though. The walls on the plateau glimmer as much as the crystals visible from the overlook’s cliff edge Aofil’s yellow painted legs are dangling casually over. A nice shimmer bringing the mind to imagining treasures vast and forgotten.

“We have the same ones.”

“That we do.”

“Well...” Chara sighs while burrowing Frisk’s chin further into the wet knees. “We had the same one.”

Aofil nods absently. “Yeah.” There’s a glimmer caught in their eye. A pocket of crystals, almost like a nest.

Hm…

Maybe Aofil can reach for them?

Yes, that they can, but a lot of them look to be rather stuck. This one though, just above their shoulder?

Aofil reaches over to one of the crystals that look to be loose enough to pry off its rocky cradle now that they have the use of their arms back. As they tug and twist to get the crystal loose, they feel the rather strange sensation their fur informs them of as the solemn wind howls a tired gasps throughout the dark cavern dotted with light. It brushes the white hairs like one would butter a warm piece of toast.

It’s reminiscent of taking off your socks at the end of a long walk, but amplified to the point where Aofil has to jerk their arm back to rub the sensation away. It is tingling at their arm like it was asleep, but it’s not in their arm. It’s on it, on their patch of fur. Like grass stretching itself upright again after some heavy rain. Aofil can feel every single strand straightening.

They’d rather not.

Chara watches their twin mutter uncomfortably as they angle Frisk’s head on its side upon the darkened jeans knees. They don’t say anything. They just watch.

“You want ít?” Aofil asks as they finally manages to pry off the crystal from the wall with an audible crack. They inspect their fingers to make sure the sound wasn’t from them.

Nope, still have all five left. On both hands too.

Neat!

Aofil brushes away the rocky dust from the crystal before rubbing the last pieces of stubborn dirt off with the help of their sweater. It is already destined for a very long wash, so what is one or two more spots on it? If monster clothing can manage Sans’ condimentary escapades it should be sturdy enough to polish a bit of crystal. Aofil offers the now cleaned crystal to Chara in their open palm. “I can find another one if you want this one.” 

Chara closes Frisk’s eyes for a second. “Frisk would like one, yes.”

“You can just say that you want one yourself, Chara.” Aofil leans over and balances the pill-shaped crystal on the curled up knee closest to them. “You don’t have to say that Frisk wants it if you want it yourself.”

“You said there wasn’t an I though, Aofil,” Chara heaves through a sob, halting Aofil like a sharp prick at the tail end of their spine.

They did, didn’t they…

Chara picks up the crystals in Frisk’s hand, clutching it close as they study the reflection in it. “Did you mean it?”

Aofil’s head slumps over in shame. “I don’t know.” Not because they’re lying, not because they don’t know if they did mean it.

But because they don’t know if they are lying. Were they lying earlier when they lashed out? Are they lying now? 

They don’t know, and they feel like they are being unfair. Keeping these things obfuscated, that’s what they were angry at the monsters for. Well, angry at themselves for not asking the monsters about it, that is. And here they’re doing it again towards Chara.

Again Aofil is blurring the line between monster and human even further, as always.

Heh.

Aofil looks down at their arm.

Fur-ther.

“Did you want to mean it?” Chara tries again while spinning the crystal in Frisk’s hand. Doesn’t matter how much they do though, they still only see Frisk in the reflection. Not a single stripe of the sides of the conical crystal shows any rosy cheeks on pale skin.

Only yellow. Only Frisk.

“I’m gonna say yes,” Aofil answers as they find another crystal that looks loose enough. They reach for it, but it seems a bit more stuck than it made itself out to be. “Not because I actually mean it, but because I want you to explain why you’re doing this. To me, to Frisk, to everyone. You are putting us all in danger by being here, Chara.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” Chara states into the crystal. “I’m still a parasite on Frisk, and that will never change. A parasite can’t live without a host though, so if Frisk is in danger I come out to make sure I still have a host to latch onto later. I’m like their second wind, but not in a good way.”

“Do you keep Frisk from getting hurt by coming forth into the spotlight for them?”

“Don’t try to make it a good thing, Aofil.” Chara pushes the flat of the crystal against Frisk’s forehead, kneading it in as if it would siphon out their headache somehow. “You...and I...and everyone...don’t want me to get more strength over Frisk. If I had a choice I’d...”

The crystal slips out of Chara’s loosened grasp, falling down into Frisk’s groin while gently spinning. It lands on its end, causing Chara to lurch forward with a groan.

“You alright?” Aofil asks while they snap their head away from the barely moving crystal still stuck in the cliff wall.

“I’m fine,” Chara says after a cough. “Frisk’s fine,” they correct while quelling a second one. “I hate feeling like this.”

“We all hate being hurt,” Aofil agrees with a glum nod.

“Not feeling hurt. Just...feeling. It’s too loud for me. Pain is deafening, along with everything else. Frisk is already a very emotional soul, and with mine on top of that...for now that is. Usually I’m at the bottom of it, you know?”

Aofil moves their hand in a circle to gently point out to Chara that they’re going off on a tangent.

Chara nods Frisk’s head understandingly. They drag a long inhale to get themselves back on track all the while clutching at Frisk’s temples. “Anyways, it’s like two enormous church bells in their ears whenever I begin feeling something, and then Frisk’s soul acts as a catalyst which flows into mine and then back to Frisk and then-”

“Chara,” Aofil says loudly to get through to their twin. They plant their hand hard, but not harshly, on Frisk’s shoulder. “You told me this before. You don’t have to again.”

“Just more proof of it, ey?” they chuckle without joy, again catching the reflection of Frisk as they tilt the possessed head down through a lamenting sigh. “If I had a choice I’d...” they repeat before picking the crystal back up in their hand. They meet Frisk’s eyes in it for a couple of long seconds. “No, I would still come out. I’d do it for Frisk. Of course I would! They deserve to not die, not after all they’ve done. They’ve died enough already.”

Aofil carefully lifts their hand away from the damp shoulder while keeping their eyes on Chara staring into the crystal.

“But they’re kept alive by someone that’s dead. They’re made to host longer by the parasite.”

“That’s a bit grim,” Aofil has to admit. They manage to get one of their finger underneath the crystal again, but it still won’t budge. They are fully aware that it is Chara behind Frisk’s voice, but hearing those word come out of Frisk’s mouth like that. They know they shouldn’t, but they’re starting to feel a bit for Chara now.

Maybe those drops from the Waterfall roof hit Aofil a bit too hard on their head.

“If I could manage Frisk’s emotions I would’ve scoffed at the understatement you just said. I don’t want to risk it though. I’m already teetering,” Chara says through gritted teeth. “One push and...”

They lean over the edge of the overlook.

“Jump back now or I throw Frisk’s body back, Chara,” Aofil states firmly with brows lowered sharply. That, if anything, they have zero hesitation about.

Chara hops back a bit.

“Good.”

“I wasn’t thinking of-”

“Don’t say anything more, Chara. Don’t make the image more vivid in my head, please.”

“Sorry,” Chara apologizes while looking away.

“So it is not a conscious choice on your part, Chara?” Aofil asks to change the subject to something less grim. It’s still somewhere on the highest echelon of grim, but at least it is not at the very top.

Or botto-

No!

Stop!

“I’m not even conscious normally,” Chara answers after holding their breath seeing Aofil flinch for a moment, “and this goes even deeper than me. I think it is Frisk’s soul not wanting to die, so it puts me out in the light to keep appearances while it sorts Frisk out behind the curtains. I’ve gotten quite good at imitating Frisk by now.”

Aofil’s face scrunches up as they fight their urge to scream. They. Really. Don’t. Like. Hearing. That!

Chara sighs as they see their twin again flinch violently. They lean Frisk’s head back from looking inside the crystal as they heave their weary exhale. “I know more about being Frisk than I do about being myself. I don’t even feel that I am acting the few times I’ve been in control.”

“Not. Helping!”

The surrounding cavern repeats their shout. The cyan colors turn more somber as their words bounce around, casting a dark veil of exploding bitterness.

Aofil shakes their head before their echo has time to quiet down. “Sorry, it spilled out of me.”

“I don’t mean it like that though,” Chara defends while impatiently rolling the crystal in Frisk’s hand as they think. “I...I am not me, really, I’m a part of Frisk. An organ. I’m me, but I’m fully dependent on Frisk. I said as much in the bus stop bathroom, Aofil. My time to remind you now, I guess.”

“Still...”

“I’m not holding it against you.”

“Thanks.”

The crystal begins to loosen a bit more.

“Please don’t ask how many times I’ve taken over from Frisk, Aofil,” Chara pleads after a short moment of silence.

“It’s gonna be harder living with knowing that than it will without. One of the rare times that is the case.”

“Usually it is the other way around,” Chara finishes with a thoughtful nod. “And speaking of that.” They reach into Frisk’s collar. “I should make sure the rest won’t know either.” The remote with its many strange buttons surfaces from the soggy fabric. “Hopefully this still works.”

“If it doesn’t with the three of our souls combined hope around it then I’ll throw rocks at the cameras until I get them all.”

Chara aims the remote upwards, and after a press of a button, they deposit it back inside of Frisk’s sweater.

“By the way, about the rest,” Aofil voices after letting Chara recover a bit. “Should I be worried that they’re gonna be worried about Frisk and I taking a long while to get to MK?”

“No,” Chara answers without thinking. It’s reassuring to Aofil that it was an instant answer, otherwise their imagination would’ve produced an ever worse answer and they’d been less inclined to believe. “Asriel promised he’d tell the others that Frisk wanted some human time with you.”

That’s good and all, but…

“Asriel made a promise to you?” Aofil asks over their shoulder. Not accusingly, but not curiously as well. Not a single drop of emotion in their voice. They have to save it for whatever Chara answers.

“He made it to Frisk,” Chara measly defends. They know it’s not what Aofil actually asked them. Another quick glance at the crystal has the thinly veiled defense crumble like a single sheet of wet paper. “Yes, he made a promise to me.”

The crystal in the wall Aofil’s fingers are wrapped around angles itself worse than before, lodging itself into another crevice Aofil couldn’t see in the faint light it reflects.

“Who else did you talk to? Besides me. Who of the monsters? Who of the Boss Monsters?”

“I’ve hugged mom, dad, and Asriel,” Chara admits while clutching their own crystal. “That’s what Frisk asked me to do. That is what they wanted me to do. Their birthday wish from me.”

Man, this crystal sure don’t want to come loose now, does it? Aofil has to dig their fingers in around it like they did their chest and soul. “I still don’t like you doing it. If there’s anything I’ve learned about your, Frisk, and my soul is that the monsters are keen on picking up on whatever it is that’s radiating off of our red hearts like a second sun.” Just get off the wall already! “Like a beacon of hope, Sans said,” Aofil forces out through their teeth clenched as they strain their arm and fingers. 

But it refuses.

“Did they notice?” Aofil questions with a growl. “Did any one of them notice?”

“No.”

Unfortunately, an instant answer is not gonna be enough this time for Aofil to believe it.

“Look me in the eyes,” Aofil commands firmly.

Chara slowly tilts up Frisk’s head again to meet Aofil. 

A good sign.

“Brush away the hair.”

They do so.

Another good sign.

“And answer me again.” 

Aofil takes a steadying breath. 

“Did Toriel, Asgore, or Asriel notice anything? Did they suspect that you were Chara and not Frisk?” And most importantly! “Am I going to have to fix something? Am I going to have to do something to convince them otherwise? Just tell me if something happened, Chara. I only want to know so that I can prepare myself.”

Not a single blink from Chara during Aofil’s questions. Not a single movement from their head. Just focused breathing. The smallest curl begins on Frisk’s lips now that Aofil’s finished, and as Frisk’s mouth begins to open to form the answer, Aofil’s eyes strain themselves to not look down. They have to watch the windows to the soul to believe now, whatever it is their ears hear.

“No.”

Aofil keeps their gaze hard on Chara’s windows. They’re opened wide for Aofil to peer into from outside. But there is nothing inside. Not a single grain of a lie which would be enough for the small piece Chara’s soul is.

“They didn’t suspect a thing, Aofil.”

Aofil’s arm bends just the slightest as the crystal in their hand jumps out of its second crevice. Still has a bit more to fiddle with though. “Good,” they say to Chara with a nod. “I believe you.”

“Thanks,” Chara returns with a subdued gasp. 

One of tremendous relief.

“You’re welcome.”

Another gravely crack rings out into the looming hollowness of the overlook. Aofil rolls their shoulder to ease out the sudden jolt. The second crystal popped out a bit more violent than the one they gave to Chara.

Strange…

They look down at it, but they only see yellow. Only MK.

Their MK makeup is not really the most robust any longer though. Half-melted by their emotional outbursts and the water and-

“Can you do me a favor, Aofil?”

“Hm?”

“It’s a small one, I promise.”

“Depends on the favor,” Aofil answers as they begin polishing their crystal. “What is it?”

Chara shows the crystal in their hand. The reflection of Frisk shines within it as a ghostly aberration. Like an old weathered photograph just underneath some moving water.

“These crystals are a bit like the Echo Flowers,” Chara explains while tapping their now yellow tinted crystal in Frisk’s hand. “They remember the last monster or human reflected into them. They react to the presence of different magic than their own environment, so a human’s reflection is more visible than a monster’s one.”

“Kinda like how the Echo Flowers don’t just repeat the folly around them?”

Chara tilts Frisk’s head from side to side. “More or less.”

“Huh.” Aofil nods to themselves. “Always wondered about that.”

“Can you...” Chara has to steady their own breath again. They swallow hard. “Can you take off your makeup and put your reflection inside your crystal?”

Aofil angles up their crystal to their face. Even under the layers of yellow paint, they can see their eyebrow raised. “Why?”

“I..I want to say goodbye to you as me, and if I see myself in a reflection while I do it...”

Chara tries, but they can’t grit Frisk’s teeth hard enough to hold back the thick tears forming.

“Frisk amplifying the emotions?” Aofil guesses carefully.

Chara nods reservedly through a loud snivel. That might mean that Frisk is getting their strength back. It’s not a large favor that Chara is asking, to be honest. Although, what if it makes Chara more aware? Maybe that will give them more control over Frisk?

“I can hear what you’re thinking,” Chara informs while rubbing Frisk’s arm. “And I promise that this is the only thing I want. I just want to say goodbye to you, Aofil. I want to say goodbye to you as twins. That’s...how I remember you as.”

The tears fall from Frisk’s chin like the drops did the stalactites around the corner into Waterfall. Splattering against the rocky ground violently.

“Please.”

Frisk’s body is almost shaking now with all the potent sobs quaking throughout the damp torso and limbs. Aofil can’t watch that, it’s too much for them.

“Just give me a second,” Aofil asks as they run their dirtied fingernails underneath the paint on the edge of their cheeks. “Might have to give it a moment so that my cheeks aren’t the same color as the rest of my face.”

Chara again looks away. “Maybe with those gone our parents could’ve loved us.”

Yeah, Chara is definitely getting a bit too emotional now. Very much so, in fact.

“They did love us, Chara,” Aofil begins before finding a grip and pulling off the yellow painted scales to reveal red irritated skin underneath. They discard the hollow and eerie mask over the edge of the overlook. They’ll deal with Radentim later.

For now though they have to get Chara a bit more stable emotion wise. Last time they succumbed to their and Frisk’s joint emotions things took a turn for the worse, to again understate it immensely. 

“They just had trouble expressing it. Dad, mom, they weren’t ready for us. Although,” Aofil pauses as they prepare themselves for what they are about to say, “I don’t remember the time when they weren’t ready, only you do.”

Chara nods once and hard.

“I don’t remember you,” Aofil continues while throwing their hand up, “and I don’t remember who or how they were before you disappeared. From what they told me, or from what my imagination told me as them when I almost died for the first time...”

They need another pause for that.

“On the day you and I decided to give Mt. Ebott a chance, our dad got a phone call that meant he could start over. With us as well.”

Chara keeps Frisk’s chin on the soaked knees, and the red glowing eyes locked hard on the distant castle humming in its turquoise color. They look to be calming down a bit.

“I haven’t given it much thought because of obvious reasons.” Aofil blows their lips as they join in their twin’s stare while keeping their crystal angled up on their cooling face. “It’s a damn mess, and the less I bring it up, the better.”

“It sounds very convenient,” Chara says quietly.

“It does, and the more I think about it the more it sounds more like my imagination than something real.” Aofil breathes out heavily. “Which I why I don’t want to think about it.”

“Fair.”

“Maybe me forgetting everything that happened beforehand was their chance to begin again. They were devastated at losing you, Chara. Make no mistake about that.”

Chara only shortly hums.

Aofil does so as well before allowing a long silence to fall upon the two.

“Why does the castle calm you down so much, by the way?”

“I grew up there, with Asriel.”

“Does that make me royalty?” Aofil shoots over casually, half joking. Might just be what the two needed though.

A small smile grows on Frisk’s lips. “I think the piece of Asriel in you makes you more royal.”

“He’s doing a lousy job at it, to be honest.”

A chuckle.

A small, insignificant chuckle if it were from anyone else. What would be a groan and a dismissal towards one of Sans’ puns now instead explodes as a roaring laughter.

Guess this is gonna be as stable as Chara gets.

Aofil checks their crystal. Their image shows them, but it also shows their twin. It shows Chara’s pale skin, Chara’s rosy cheek, and after some tussling from Aofil, Chara’s long fringe. Aofil adds a smile to it too. 

After all, it’s what Chara is doing now.

“Here.”

Chara takes it in Frisk’s hands. They look down at it with Frisk’s eyes.

But they see themselves.

And this time, when the tears fall on the reflection of the pale human with the rosy cheeks, there is no paint to obfuscate the truth. Right now it is not a curse. It is not something that meant loss, it is something lost itself.

But for now it is back, in the briefest of moments it is back to Chara. Their own face, while they’re sitting next to their own twin.

Time to say their own goodbye.

“Thank you,” they whisper through the streams of tears running down their face in the crystal. 

Aofil extends their arms to invite their twin for the last, and also the first, time. If anything than to make sure Frisk doesn’t fall over slump onto the hard ground.

Chara accepts the embrace with everything that is their soul.

“Goodbye, Aofil.”

A long silent moment passes with the two twins sharing in the embrace with tears raining down from the sobbing human.

“I’m finished now, Frisk,” Chara whispers to themselves. “Thank you.”  
Frisk’s body turns limp in Aofil’s arms, their weight loosening into Aofil’s chest. Aofil carefully leans the now sleeping body down onto the ground with the yellow slumped head resting on one of their thighs.

Chara’s crystal rolls gently out of Frisk’s opened hand.

Aofil mirrors the warm smile on the crystal.

“Goodbye, Chara.”


	38. One more to celebrate

“Oh...my head.”

Aofil is pulled back from their half-conscious stare towards the New Home castle in its crooked, yet still somehow sturdy design. The cyan coloring emphasizes the bends on the large stone towers, making them seem more extreme than they really are.

Or at least, Aofil hopes they’re not as extreme as they are. Some of the towers look as if you’d be sliding down and popped out one of the windows should you get to the top floor. Middle floor because it bends down, perhaps?

That’s a discussion for another time though. Right now they need to make sure that the waking Frisk is actually Frisk. They push down with the heel of their hand on the striped sweater covered shoulder.

“Just say that you’re Frisk,” Aofil pleads to the dazed human still with their head on Aofil’s leg blinking hard while groaning. “Say it and it will be enough. I promise.”

“Just give me a second...” the soaked human responds, pressing a yellow hand up against the drenched forehead. “Everything is spinning.”

“I’ve been through the wrong one waking up once already,” Aofil unfortunately has to inform. “Just say that you’re Frisk, please.”

After a quelled heave comes a quiet answer as not to summon another violent burp. “I’m Frisk.” The answer is quickly followed by a disgusted moan.

“Good.” Aofil removes their hand pressing down on Frisk’ shoulder. “Finally some weight off my shoulders.”

Like a tree that wasn’t meant to be felled, Frisk is hoisted up ungracefully with a bit more than a few wobbles to their newly awakened person. Aofil hovers their hands around Frisk’s shoulders just in case they tilt too much the other way. While it might need a shove and a half for Frisk to tumble over the overlook’s cliff edge, it’s still not something Aofil would want to happen.

They can’t really think of anyone what would the contrary but that’s besides the point right now.

“Where are we?” Frisk asks through a sputtering cough. “Waterfall?” they guess as they move their head around to take in their newly awakened surroundings. “Why is there a pile of shattered glass over there? And there? Aofil?”

“No reason,” Aofil answers while pushing the remaining pile of pebbles and rocks next to them over the edge. It didn’t take an embarrassingly amount of throws to hit the cameras stationed around the overlook, but it didn’t take an impressive amount either. Had that been the case Aofil might’ve made a small stone tower to commemorate their ability to vandalize surveillance from The Man. 

Or The Monster, in this case. The Monsters, plural.

Like Undyne drumming her excited nails upon a clean pot soon to be dirtied by said excitement violently adding ingredients of various kinds and velocity, the pebbles hit the ground far below like piano keys playing a somber melody of their demise.

Unlike Undyne though, one must be aware of it happening for it to be heard. The sound doesn’t find you as in Undyne’s case, you have to find the sound. It would required half a boulder if not three quarters of one to produce the same volume as Undyne would with her previously tapping fingers playing her piano. The same excitement with the same ear piercing sound.

Not a complaint, just an observation.

“Is that rain?” Frisk asks as the echo from the pebbles find itself back up from the dark depths where not even the cyan glow can reach. “My eyes are really dry.” They rub their red eyes tiredly. It’s a red hue on their whites instead of on their iris, which is the better combination. Another calm to sooth Aofil’s tensed demeanor.

“Rain came and went,” Aofil says with a slow nod. They swipe their hand on their darkened spot on their chest where Chara pressed in Frisk’s face. “Came and went,” they repeat through a long inhale. “Hopefully never to be seen again,” they hide underneath the following exhale.

Frisk mirrors the inhale, if anything just to get used to the feeling again. “What did Chara want to talk to you about?” They move the unruly fringe hanging down over their eyes. The small swoop has something turning in Aofil’s head. With a mere flick of some hair, Frisk’s face goes from an almost acute appearance. Knife-like, almost, had Aofil not known the horrible implication that analogy would’ve made. Now its soft, round, and friendly as always with the fringe not casting those dark shadows over Frisk’s eyes. 

Did Chara know? Is that why they moved Frisk’s fringe over their eyes? Another way to have more control over Frisk? Or just to be a bit closer to the twin they wanted to say goodbye to? Does Aofil look the same? 

They flick their fringe too as subtly as they can.

“Wanted to say goodbye,” Aofil answers while massaging their thigh screaming its collective scream being held back by Frisk’s tired head sleeping on it. “So I gave them one. They seemed happy enough with it.”

“Thanks,” Frisk says with a thanking nod. “Glad to hear they got their wish fulfilled.”

The longing smile beginning to stretch Frisk’s lips doesn’t sit well with Aofil. “Don’t ever do that again,” they firmly ask with an accompanying shake to their head. “Just don’t.”

Frisk turns to see Aofil’s brow hanging so low their eyes almost becomes slits. They flinch back.

“You got it?” Aofil adds as they see that Frisk has understood their hardened furrow. “Never again.”

“Didn’t Chara say why they came out?”

The casual nature of Frisk’s retort sits worse with Aofil than what they’ve been doing for...well, they’ve lost the exact time, but way too long. Had they not been sitting on their tail they’d run the risk of hypothermia, maybe. Frisk should definitely get some fresh clothes though. Hopefully the set drying in the Lab has dried enough by now. Why Toriel didn’t hang the clothes to dry outside at Hotland is a question Aofil will have to ask later.

For now they can’t shake this feeling off them. Like the clinging wetness of their clothes it sticks to them no matter how hard they try to pull at it. They did their best not to let their thoughts fester. Chara was right about the castle being a soothing sight to look at. Aofil forgot the time entirely after they’d fixed the problem of not knowing which button on the remote that would loop the cameras again.

Frisk’s questioning answer has made Aofil aware of these thoughts they tried to push away. It’s not enough for Frisk to just say that they are Frisk now. They shouldn’t have to be this suspicious. They hate it, the feeling of distrust. It feels like betrayal, and it sickens Aofil. They don’t want to let this limb grow further. It’s already grown nerve endings and soft spots. “Yes,” they still decide to answer, “but from what I could tell your body were in good enough condition to straddle me like a play set and shrug off crashing afterwards. Why didn’t you take back control?” 

Please don’t let the knife come down on this limb they’ve grown to love.

Frisk’s eyes dart back and forth as if they’re glancing at an audience that’s in on a very obvious joke that Aofil isn’t. The faint glimmer from the castle has the subtle, irritating red in Frisk’s eyes turn back normal white for a split moment. “Because I wanted them to say goodbye,” they speak with a tone that’s almost mocking as to how obvious it is. Their playfully jumping eyebrows doesn’t really help either.

Aofil feels the sharp edge touch their limb, and they wince as it begins to peel at their skin.

“And you made this choice after making a risk assessment, I presume?” Aofil challenges with a harsh upwards throw of their hand. “Your head was spun enough to warrant Chara taking over, so maybe that wasn’t the most informed call you ever made, Frisk.”

Their skin has grown thick though throughout the years.

Frisk stays stalwart, as if standing up against a bully threatening their best friend. “Chara deserved it.” They extend their arm towards New Home while keeping their eyes locked hard on Aofil’s. “They are a part of me, and have been so for longer than they were their own, so their birthday wish becomes mine as well. Chara wanted to say goodbye to their family and see the castle again so that I gave them. Mom, dad, Asriel, you, and the castle.” Frisk punctuates by abruptly bouncing their arm from the castle to Aofil. “You were the only one they could talk to. I’m not stupid, Aofil, and neither is Chara. They wouldn’t have done anything to arouse suspicion. That would have jeopardized me, and everyone else.”

Jeopardized Chara’s host...

“Just humor me,” Aofil says with a plastered smile. “Why me? What makes you think I took this whole ordeal with stride?”

“You’re human,” Frisk replies as if to again remind the obvious. “The others are not. They won’t understand that Chara wouldn’t be able to be brought back. You know how much hassle it took to bring Asriel back. I don’t want mom and dad to even begin to think about building another Above Lab to research bringing back Chara, Aofil, and I’m sure you don’t either. They still love Chara. Chara was their child, and they will do anything they can to save their child if they’re allowed.”

What has gotten into Frisk?

Or better asked, what has gotten out of them?

Doesn’t give them the excuse to risk the memories though!

“And you will never allow them to, Frisk? They will never be the wiser?”

“No, they won’t,” Frisk shoots back, completely ignoring Aofil’s sarcastic tilt of their head and shoulders. “For reasons you are completely aware of!”

Alright, something is definitely wrong here. 

This isn’t Frisk.

It’s not Chara either. Something...in between? Aofil’s not sure. 

And they don’t like not being sure.

Aofil runs their eyes up and down Frisk’s stone faced expression. “Is Chara clinging onto your collective emotions still?” they prod to assess what Frisk might answer. Are they gonna be defensive of the emotions, or Chara? Maybe both? Aofil needs to get to the bottom of this, but they fear it might be deeper than what the pebbles fell before.

What melody will ring out from this piano piece? 

“Ah...” Frisk grabs their forehead with both their hands. “Shit.”

A very confused tapping on the ebonies… 

Aofil’s eyebrow almost flies off their forehead as they shoot up violently. “What?” spills out of their mouth one perplexed syllable at a time.

“Damn,” Frisk curses into the palm of their hands. “How harsh did I sound?”

Aofil wasn’t prepared for this amount of concern. Overwhelming, almost.

Through the small between Frisk’s pressing fingers an almost whistling sigh fights its way out. “Perhaps I did give Chara a bit too much leeway…” It is quickly followed by another more hollow sigh that’s accompanied by a subtle choke.

Oh...guess Aofil’s accusatory question was correct.

Ah, shit, indeed.

“How do you mean?” Aofil pries carefully after putting a steadying hand on Frisk’s quivering shoulder. The human leans back on Aofil for support while breathing hard inside their handy mask. “You gave them too much time?”

“Maybe...” Frisk answers after some quiet thinking. “Maybe they siphoned more than they were conscious of when talking to you. I feel a bit...empty. Like I have influenza or something. It’s not usually like this when Chara helps me recover.”

Aofil has to bite their tongue hard to not let it slip. Their pain is in vain though, as Frisk curls up harder from Aofil drumming out their contained energy onto the wet sweater shoulder. Just as hard as Undyne would her pot, but with the complete opposite emotion to it.

A minor scale for a major problem compared to a major scale for a minor problem.

“Shit,” Frisk again sighs into their palms before letting them fall down haphazardly. “Sorry, I should’ve waited a bit before answering you.” They drag a quaking inhale through their nose. “Chara didn’t do it willingly though. I promise, I feel that they didn’t.”

Aofil only shortly hums.

“Not a lot I can say to convince you, Aofil?”

Aofil looks down at the darkened spot where Chara bored Frisk’s head into. “Don’t think so,” they acknowledge with a nod. “Not now, that is. I need some time too, I feel.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” Frisk coughs out while straightening their back. “It was just supposed to have Chara be happy and then I’d continue like nothing happened, just how we usually do.”

“You saying ‘usually’ is doing everything but helping this situation, Frisk,” Aofil says before slamming their teeth back down on their tongue to keep it in place.

“Too casual?”

A single, firm nod is given as an answer.

“Guess I have to wait a bit more for my emotions.” Frisk curls up in their legs just like how Chara did. Or maybe Chara did it because Frisk does it? Or maybe Frisk does it now because Chara still has influence and-

AAAAARRRGGGHH!!!

And Aofil has knocked off all the rocks nearby already!

DOUBLE AAAARRRGGGHH!!!

“Here.”

Aofil grabs whatever it is Frisk is handing to them, and chucks it as far as they can. Its not a heavy object, yet it carries with it Aofil’s anger as it sails merrily into the dark depths underneath the overlook. Aofil catches only a mere glimpse of it as it spins on its axis from Aofil’s hard throw. A familiar reflection blinks as it reflects the glimmer of the surrounding crystals.

It is...was...Aofil’s phone.

TRIPLE-

No…

No, Aofil threw out their shoulder. They can feel that now. They can’t be angry now, they feel like they to fold over half to hold it in.

Dammit.

Their patch of fur begins to warm up, and the strange, almost sickening, feeling from it begins traveling up Aofil’s arm and across their torso.

And now they’re feeling too sick to be angry.

They heave a weary sigh.

“I thought...” they begin to explain, but trail off as they mimic Frisk putting up their hands to their face. Aofil blows their lips while they shake their head.

“I’m sorry,” Frisk again apologizes. “It slipped out of your pocket, and I-”

“No, no that was me,” Aofil assures while their hands slide down their brightening cheeks. “That was me.”

“Maybe...” Frisk angles their head downwards, leaning their forehead against their tucked in knees. “Maybe we should just be quiet for a moment?”

That sounds like a good idea. Aofil lean themselves back with their fur covered arm underneath the back of their head. It’s soft, and Aofil needs something soft to rest their head on for now. They can’t really lean on their other arm since they’ve injured that shoulder, so it finds itself resting gently on Aofil’s stomach.

A joint sigh is thrown against a warm breeze coming from Hotland. The two humans turn their heads to see if it was Sans, but to their immense relief it was but the wind.

Deary me…

This quiet was something Aofil needed. Frisk too. It’s not an anxious one like when Frisk was asleep but a couple of minutes ago. It’s more of an agreed silence. A cease fire, almost. The two sides agreeing to put things aside for a short while so they can recuperate.

Aofil is gonna eat so much cake later.

The monsters will stare at them like they’ve gone mad, and tomorrow Aofil is gonna feel like absolute shit because of that. However, it’s gonna be because they themselves made a bad decision, not because they have to take the weight from someone else’s decision. It’s gonna be because they did a bad, not because someone else did a bad that became a bad for Aofil as well.

So. Much. Cake! 

Aofil pats their stomach with their now healed arm.

Cake will be pouring out of their ears when they’re done.

They can feel a soothing calm flush throughout them. A mix of their fur completing its work, and their sweet tooth sharing the good news to Aofil’s stomach and head. They take the first breath of clean air in what feels as forever. Waterfall has been up to their ears ever since Chara told Aofil that they were back, and finally it has receded. 

All because of the thought of having some of Muffet’s cake.

Aofil scoffs a chuckle.

Yup, they’re definitely in love. Gotta remember to thank Muffet later for that.

And maybe a bit more.

So now that Aofil’s distracted themselves enough to think properly, what about Frisk?

Aofil rolls their head to the side, sizing the bent over human breathing deeply and sighing even deeper into their soaked jeans and sticking sweater.

‘Naive’ is the word that first pops into Aofil’s head. That’s what Frisk is. Naive about Chara, naive about themselves, naive about Chara and themselves. 

‘Hopeful’ is the second word that kicks in the door inside Aofil’s head, followed by ‘trusting’, ‘loving’, ‘selfless’, the list goes on. The list ends just as it begins though, with ‘naive’. It’s the only word that comes up twice, but sandwiched between it, the toppings to the naive sandwich makes the bitter bread seem puny, almost insignificant.

The beginning and end are the same, but the journey between Aofil can’t for the life of them find something wrong about.

Frisk is too good, even for their own…

That Chara and Aofil can agree on. That’s where the two think like twins would. Same same, but different. Chara from knowing Frisk inside out, and Aofil for knowing Frisk outside in, meeting at ‘naive’ in the middle.

Good kid though, will be a good adult as well. Just gotta keep the soul friend close and not let Chara wander off.

Oh yes, Aofil sure did need this damn silence. 

They push themselves up sitting with an involuntary groan. “Let’s get another Nice Cream,” they suggest after drumming on their legs. It makes a borderline splashing sound, and the cold has each slap reverberating into their bones.

Woke them up, at the very least.

“Did Chara get you one?” Frisk mutters into their legs.

Looks like Frisk needs a bit more silence. “I’ll get one for you,” Aofil offers while preparing to stand up. They slide one leg back and brace their hand on their bent knee. “Uh...there’s only one flavor, right?” Just in case Aofil picks the wrong one for Frisk.

“Are you angry at them or at me?”

Aofil’s leg slides back over the cliff edge. “I’m not angry, Frisk.”

“Just disappointed,” Frisk finishes.

“No,” Aofil says while struggling to hide their smile. Toriel must be using that line constantly, with each time saying it while crossing her arms and tilting her head down, her ears flopping forward as she says that she’s disappointed.

Maybe Aofil had a bit too much silence…

They take a breath to normalize themselves a bit closer to Frisk. They’ll save the smiles for when Frisk can summon one too.

“I’m tired,” Aofil explains while waving their hand in front of their face. “Face, body, soul. Weathered from everything we’ve done. Although, I can’t admit that I haven’t gotten a bit desensitized. Still, you should have talked to me about this before, I feel. Did you plan for Chara to come out?”

“No, we didn’t plan it, but once Chara was out I...”

Aofil puts as warm as a hand that they have on the back of Frisk’s head. Their finger can’t even run through the hair, it is so wet. “You said why earlier.”

“If you knew it would’ve been worse if I asked.”

“Worse for me?” Aofil asks to clarify. They get a meager nod in answer, Aofil only picking it up from their hand. “Yeah, probably. Blissfully unaware and all that.”

“Hm...”

“You made a risky call, Frisk. Just don’t do it again, alright? Chara can’t control your body properly, which is for the best. They thought so as well, didn’t they?”

“Yeah...” slips out of Frisk as if they’re fighting it back. It’s too true for even them to dismiss though.

“To be completely honest, I might’ve felt like Chara was about to jump your body off the cliff at any moment,” Aofil admits with guilt overflowing. “I only really played along.” Their face freezes for a split second. “Chara can’t hear us right now, can they?”

Wait...why does Aofil care?

“No,” Frisk answers after closing their eyes for a few long seconds.

And why this overwhelming relief inside Aofil?

That turns into a sinking disappointment? A realization? Chara can’t hear Aofil saying that they don’t care, but that also means they can’t hear Aofil-

Maybe…

Oh…

So that’s how it is.

“Can you make them hear us?” Aofil wonders carefully.

Frisk lifts their head with a small gasp. They turn it slowly to Aofil smiling sheepishly back.

“Just for a moment?”

Frisk again closes their eyes. They nod a second afterwards before slowly opening them again. Something small tugs inside Aofil. Could be Asriel reacting, or it could be Aofil. Anyways… “Thanks.”

“For what?” Frisk can’t help but ask back.

“You bringing them out. In the end it all worked out, right? So all in all your mistake was...good. I’m not saying don’t do it again, I don’t think any of the three of us would want this to happen again, but it did, and Chara and I got to say goodbye to the other. You’re a good person for sharing your birthday like this, Frisk. Thank you.”

Frisk tilts their head over towards the New Home castle. “Thank you,” they mouth back.

“Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.”

That was both Chara and Frisk speaking, Aofil can tell. The only time they’re gonna humor Chara and Frisk sharing the body, just once.

Their only one time for Frisk’s only one time.

It will sink away in due time, and Aofil has an idea how to kick start that progress.

“Let’s get some Nice Cream,” they again offer as they stand up. They offer their hand to help Frisk up. “I want something to snack on for your battle against MK.”


	39. Human to human

“Be sure to tell all your friends!”

Aofil throws their hand over their shoulder in a quick wave towards the Nice Cream puppet smiling behind its stand.

“Just a minute first, please,” it asks friendly while beckoning for Aofil to come closer. Its smile grows impatient, and its ears begin to tug from side to side. Is it looking for reception perhaps?

“I think it might be Toriel,” Aofil whispers to Frisk as they hand over their unwrapped Nice Cream for Frisk to hold for a moment. “Perhaps best if I take it.”

Frisk nods in agreement, turning the corner to sit down on the box to wait.

With eyes forced close and hands pushing hard against their ears, Aofil gives the puppet some time to dislocate its jaw and whatever other eldritch possessions it has to get out of its system before it’s entirely remote controlled.

They only open their eyes and remove their hands when they feel a clumsy tap on their shoulder.

“Your costume!” the puppet whispers harshly. “What happened?”

Aofil looks down on the hollow suit of scales they’ve tied around their waste underneath their sweater that they’ve bored some arm holes out of. “I...” they begin while scratching their cheek. “I tripped.” Their casual shrug has the forced holes through their sweater unravel some more.

The puppet’s head moves back in distrust. “That was part of the script though, Aofil. Your costume should’ve survived you tripping in it,” it explains. Well, it interrogates, that much is clear. Aofil can’t really blame whoever is behind the mic. They have a few suspicions, but it is hard to tell right now with the tone of voice of the puppet. Its cheerful and uplifting demeanor does not lend for the actual tone of its words to come through so easily. It has Aofil bracing for when it does.

“Did Asriel explain why it took so long?” they decides to ask before they’re asked it themselves. Gives them a bit more room to maneuver their answer in what’s surely to be one hell of a storm. Again they brace.

There’s a brief pause.

Uh oh.

Aofil takes an instinctive step back.

They can feel Asriel freezing in fear all the way from the Lab inside them. For being just a sliver of soul from a monster, it grips the part of Aofil’s soul that is human like an iron fist. Must mean that Asriel’s heart is about to burst out of his horns to escape the situation going on over there.

Or maybe Aofil is just bracing themselves for the Nice Cream Guy puppet to unhinge its jaw again.

One or the two.

Maybe both.

“He...”

Oh that is way too long a pause to be anyone else but Toriel. Not something Aofil can cheer about though. Sometimes being right is the worst outcome.

“...didn’t.”

Aofil takes a second step back.

Frisk peeks their inquisitive head around the corner, Nice Creams occupying both their hands. They shrug a question to Aofil before nodding to the Nice Creams.

“Toriel,” Aofil mouths over their shoulder while sawing in front of their throat. “Asriel didn’t explain,” they stage whisper over.

Frisk’s eyes grow into plates. “Mom’s gonna kill him.” Their iris contract as if they’re staring directly into the sun. They’re staring at something about to burn more violent though. “You gotta get him out of there!”

Aofil should. Asriel still has a role to play in the script, and Toriel might not realize that until it’s too late. Besides, Aofil left their resurrecting pants at home, so bringing Asriel back again will be a bit more of a hassle this time.

Yes, a very bad call on their part not to always keep those pants on. Naive, almost, but they need to be washed at least one time.

Too bad they chose the time where Asriel’s at the risk of dying.

And Aofil isn’t morbidly curious enough to see if a child version of them takes over akin to Chara when Asriel’s in mortal danger.

“Speaking of Asriel,” Aofil anxiously chuckles to the puppet after clearing their throat of their heart, “could you send him along with MK for the fight?”

Another long pause, each second passing stretching further than that god damn love triangle arc in the first Mew Mew season. Too long, that is. Way too long and way too melodramatic.

“Why?” flows out of the puppets mouth like a waterfall of poison. Whatever nullification of the tone the puppet’s demeanor and friendly outlook did is washed away underneath the slow and rugged movement of its robotic mouth spilling a torrent of malicious vile and bitter.

Aofil has to take a moment to collect themselves. The puppet has now inherited Toriel’s hard stare, colder than the depths of Snowdin. What Aofil is seeing is a step down from what she’s really doing though. The monitor in the Lab must be shattering under her intimidating gaze.

If the CORE cake is still standing after this Aofil will be mighty impressed.

“He...” 

“He?” the puppet repeats.

“He and MK were to cooperate during the fight, correct?” Aofil conjures out of a hat made out of air. “Using the remote?”

The puppet’s head begins to violently nod, almost slamming into its Nice Cream stand. Aofil gives the freezer on wheels a slight tug, just in case. They’d rather not see the mechanic structure underneath should the puppet crack the fur off its face against the sharp edge of the Nice Cream freezer.

Aofil has accidentally seen enough Mettaton pin-ups to know that robots aren’t their thing.

“Stop,” the puppet commands, seizing its nodding with an abrupt halt that has its ears almost tearing away from the top of its blue furry head. “We’ll speak about this later, Asriel.” The puppet sighs. “I trust you and Frisk have already done the routine enough for your part, Aofil. Come back here after Frisk’s fight with MK.”

“Will do.”

Aofil turns around before the puppet has time to seize itself back into control. They do it in the nick of time, as Frisk immediately averts their eyes as they turn their head back around the corner. Blindly, they hand over Aofil’s Nice Cream back to them. “Why does it unhinge its mouth like that?”

“Beats me.”

Frisk shudders with a tensed grimace.

“I think Asriel forgot to inform Toriel,” Aofil explains with an exasperated exhale as they unwrap their frozen treat that will hopefully warm their heart. God knows they need some warmth right now.

“He might survive courtesy of your soul inside him,” Frisk adds while opening their own treat. “Gonna be close though.”

Before they have time to sample it though, the box underneath them bounces to life. In their startled confusion their Nice Cream arcs gracefully away from their scared and opened hand before landing in a nearby puddle with a splat.

Oh, how err it is to human. How err it is to enjoy a Nice Cream, apparently. Aofil better hold on to theirs tightly before they drop theirs a second time. Seems to be tradition for the humans of today to drop them on the ground like this.

With lips pouted in annoyance, Frisk opens up the box, which expands their rounded lips into a slightly surprised expression. “Oh.” They retrieve a pair of warm towels and a dry set of clothes that they bounce in their arms. “I guess one towel is for you.”

“Maybe Toriel isn’t so angry after all,” Aofil comments before putting the entirety of their Nice Cream inside their mouth to free up their hands for the towel Frisk hands over.

What they receive is indeed fluffy, and indeed warm, but it’s not much a towel as it is a shortcutted Asriel smiling maniacally as he throws himself towards Aofil.

“You just saved my life!”

The sudden gust of wind combined with the large pairs of fuzzy hands desperately grabbing Aofil’s shoulder has them gasping, inhaling their Nice Cream while an overbearingly relieved Asriel shakes their body like a paint blender.

“Mom was about to kill me!”

Aofil can only gurgle viscerally in response. “Gah! Ahk...stahg!” Their painfully cold guttural noises falls on deaf floppy ears though that smack with the same sound as Aofil’s tongue perilously trying to vacate the Nice Cream from Aofil’s freezing throat.

With a vicious cough the Nice Cream is launched with the same cyan color Undyne’s magic has when she conjures spears during the frantic scenes of Mew Mew.

Ploof.

“Sorry, I-”

Asriel’s hasty apology is interrupted by Aofil inhaling as much air as they are capable of plus a bit of interest from the temporary panic quickly subsiding. 

“We’ll just go...” he says while quickly turning on his embarrassed heels. “Right, Sans?”

But there is no Sans.

“He went in for some Nice Cream,” MK explains after throwing up his helm’s visor with a quick snap of his neck. “Yo, Frisk, excited?”

Frisk nods with a knowing smile. “Can’t wait.”

“Neither can I!” MK replies. “It’s gonna be awesome to be Undyne proper! Prepare yourself, human! Ngahahahahaha!”

“I can tell,” Frisk closes off with a friendly chuckle while taking the two Nice Creams handed to them from a sauntering Sans. “You have her laughter down to a tee.” They unwrap one and hand it to MK who gladly chomps down with an eager bite.

“She was eager to teach me.”

“I can imagine.”

“they didn’t have cough drop flavor, aof,” Sans laments with a heavy heart after dunking on Aofil’s back. “but you’re not picky, are you?”

Aofil can only cough in response.

“figured as much.” Sans hands Aofil another unwrapped Nice Cream. “dammit,” he sighs before Aofil can grab the stick, “i forgot the punch card.”

“I’ll fetch it,” Frisk offers as they nod inwards the road to the Nice Cream stand. “Gotta change either way. You shortcut away now.”

Asriel meets their sibling’s eyes for a moment before averting, leaving a concerned frown on Frisk, who sends it over to a recuperating Aofil.

Does Asriel know?

“Eh...” Asriel chuckles as he notices the rather weighty human eyes laying hard upon him. “I was just thinking...”

The eyes fall heavier upon him, and Asriel’s forced to sigh in admittance. “Sorry for ruining the immersion,” he apologizes with a sheepish smile. “Kinda broke the fourth wall with a sledgehammer back in Snowdin.”

Oh!

The heavy eyes fly off into the sky, they’re so relieved!

“Don’t read much into it,” Frisk assures with a long arm around Asriel’s neck. “You’re not smart enough too.” They dangle the fourth unwrapped Nice Cream in front of Asriel’s bent down muzzle. “Nibbles, Azzy, otherwise you’ll get brain freeze.”

With a brotherly shove, Frisk’s arm is returned to them. The unwrapped Nice Cream stays though, and is quickly unwrapped and shoved into the now bent upwards muzzle. “I-”

Like a fourth dimensional structure, Asriel’s muzzle begins to bend in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible, almost inverting inside out. He grabs his temples with an audible bleat that bounces throughout the entirety of Waterfall. The embarrassment from his cryogenic cry heats him up enough for his brain freeze to stop as abruptly as it started. His eyes dart across his surrounding party, all with Nice Creams teetering on falling out of their gaping mouths.

“Heh,” he produces.

Immediately after he grabs both Sans’ and MK’s hands.

“you only have my beautiful visage, but not my magic,” Sans reminds with a smug smi-

“SHORTCUT!” Asriel shouts back.

Like a silent snap, the three monsters vanish, leaving a small vacuum that’s filled in by the air around it. It sweeps at Frisk and Aofil’s hair, and the two share a look. Aofil’s tail comes up to scratch at the back of their head.

Oh! Nice! It’s still working!

“Good to see that things are as normal,” Frisk says after a couple of silent beats. “I don’t think he suspected anything. I’ll be redressing and fetching that punch card now.”

“Normal in our case,” Aofil corrects after nodding for Frisk to go ahead with their clothes switch. They lean themselves on the wall next to the entrance. “As far from the human condition as possible, that is.”

“You’re the one in love with a monster,” Frisk shouts from inside following a loud splat of damp fabric.

That’s not untrue…

“You and I are so closely connected with monsters that I’m surprised that we haven’t been able to do magic of our own just from the amount of magical residue we’ve had put on us.” Aofil slurps up some eager drops of melted Nice Cream about to escape from their lower lip. “Well, you more than I, to be honest,” they add while moving their Nice Cream like a brush on an invisible canvas.

A rather interpretive motif manifests upon the imaginary canvas before Aofil realizes that their Nice Cream is about to slid off its stick. They put it back safely inside their mouth.

“Your soul though,” Frisk retorts with a careful pat on their now dry chest.

True, though.

“Pray tell,” Frisk asks as they pop their newly inserted Nice Cream out of their mouth with an audible plop. “Don’t you mean disappointed instead of surprised?”

“Ehhhhhhhh...” Aofil shrugs slowly, “not really. I mean, I only recently let Toriel heal me like she wanted too. Last time I had actual healing done on me was from my dad.”

“Right,” Frisk nods with a sharp inhale as they realize the sore spot they accidentally prodded. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m over it. Thank you, though.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Frisk says while straining their mouth not to.

“About my dad’s magic?” Aofil hazards a guess. Not really a lot of other questions that would be as inappropriate as Frisk’s congested expression makes it out to be.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t remember.”

“It’s more that-” Frisk shuts themselves up by taking another long suckle on their Nice Cream. They seem to be two minds about this. Looks like the mind that holds them back also coincides with the mind that enjoys Nice Cream. Could be that both minds enjoy the Nice Cream and Frisk stuffing their mouth is the two meeting halfway?

Aofil steps over the sharp crystal their last Nice Cream produced without as much as a thought.

“You’re curious that humans might have the potential for magic still?”

Frisk shakes their head, breaking off half the Nice Cream in their mouth. They glance at the exposed stick with half the joke visible. The punchline is still hidden underneath the piece that is left, but slowly sliding off. “I’m worried, if anything. What with the last time war happened and all. By now we’d noticed if monsters could still absorb souls after the Barrier broke, and we haven’t a single one. We haven’t done any experiments, but you know...”

“Pretty sure we’d heard something about humans being capable of magic too by now, or maybe even by the time I left Ebott,” Aofil answers with a shrug.

“So your dad was just a one time happening?”

“What he told me when I was...dying...was that he got it from the Barrier. Like you said, it’s gone now, so...”

“Yeah.”

“Or, you know, the more human answer would be that I was hallucinating my dead family, including Chara. They didn’t have any recollection of the event, so evidence pointing towards biology rather than magic, it seems.” Aofil tenses their forearm while cupping their fingers, but nothing happens inside their impromptu magical cage. “Asriel isn’t doing a lot for me either, and not to brag or anything, but I would probably be the first one to show any symptoms.”

“Well, Asriel isn’t doing a lot of magic for himself, to be honest. I haven’t managed anything either.”

“Not for lack of trying?” Aofil pries with a raised eyebrow.

The answer arrives in the form of a sigh, stamped through loose lips. “Not at all. It’s good that you’re a bit more comfortable talking about this, Aofil. I don’t really have any other human I can talk to about this.”

Dang, Aofil’s blood sugar must’ve been lower than the depths underneath the overlook. Just a couple of minutes ago they spat poison about thinking about their family like this, and now they’re debunking it heartily. Nice Cream sure does warm the heart, and spikes the blood sugar. Spiking means coming back to normal in this case though, if only for a little while.

“But what about that builder guy?” Frisk perks with their mouth almost frozen to their Nice Cream.

“Scared and panicked, most likely,” Aofil answers solemnly after some short but intensive thinking where they only realize their cold lips when they begin speaking. “He didn’t have any scars on his exposed stomach like the pastor has across his back, so again, biology points away from magic.”

“Scars?” Frisk taps their lower teeth against the exposed stick, making it bounce rhythmically like a one sided seesaw. “Huh...”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if humans began with some research into magic though. Don’t think, and hope, that it’ll lead anywhere, but the interest sure has been sparked one way or another. I’ve seen plenty of monster taking interest in human matters, so the opposite isn’t really a stretch of the imagination.”

“True.”

Aofil’s eyes narrow as a thought strike them harder than Undyne would her training dummy. Their mouth curls just like how Undyne’s training dummy would when she’d turn away from it. 

"Of all the magic around, all the sparkles, fire, and colorful explosions and objects the monster can make manifest, the most I've ever seen any of the monsters have fun is when a couple of kids from a couple of classes under yours rode a wonky supermarket trolley across the store's gravely parking lot."

Frisk has to take their Nice Cream out of their mouth lest it falls out of its rounded and perplexed shape.

“That younger human and the posse of monsters they always surround themselves with? ‘Fun Gang’, I think they’re known as in their class.”

Still wide opened.

“Large, pink lizard monster, a bit of a bully and chomps chalk loudly as if trying to vanish out of class from the ensuing smokescreen,” Aofil begins as they move what’s left on their own Nice Cream to their cheek. “Another one is blue, smaller, rounder, much rounder. Quite the character, although he very obviously takes a lot of it from his friends. Big into cards though, apparently. Third is...kinda like a smaller Asriel, except not.”

“Like a...”

“Goat, yes,” Aofil finishes off Frisk’s hesitating describing. It’s better that they say it since they have history of being clumsy with not equating the monster with animals. They’re already tainted, where as Frisk is not. “I’ve learned enough to not assume that he’s a Boss Monster, and I’m sure Toriel would’ve told me beforehand if that were the case. Big pink glasses and a bit smaller pink horns. Very well spoken for his age and makes friend faster than a blink. He gave me a slice of cake once when I substituted for Alphys, so I’m living proof to that.”

“New Mew Mew release? That why you had to substitute?”

“I watched it later with her and Undyne so it was fine. I really shouldn’t have had the cake while watching with them though, it was way too sweet and I had to brush my teeth twice as long to get the taste out of my mouth.”

Frisk shakes their head. “I don’t think I’ve seen him in school. I would’ve noticed someone looking like Asriel. Wouldn’t other monsters take notice too?”

True…and strange.

“Or I could’ve just have missed him,” Frisk admits with a casual shrug. “And really, I’ve only seen a fraction of what the monsters can look like, even having lived in the midst of them.”

“If you say so.”

“What about the human?” Frisk pries further, now with a very curious lean forward which endangers their remaining Nice Cream from slipping off. “There are a few more than one now in the classes under Asriel’s and mine.”

“Kris...I think the human’s name is,” Aofil answers after some thinking. “Almost slipped your name towards them a few time.”

“I think I’ve heard that name before. How do they look like?”

“Has terrible dark brown hair that looks like a bird’s nest with an accompanying Waterfall of hair going down their almost sleepless face?” Aofil adds to their description while covering their eyes with their hand.

“Oh!” Frisk shines up. “Right, that one.”

That one?

“Asriel had Kris as a sorta school big brother one year.” Frisk explains after seeing Aofil’s furrowed expression emerge as they remove their hand. “To help with smoothing over being a human at a monster school, you know?”

“You don’t remember your brother being a school big brother to a human?” Aofil challenges with a very perplexed falsetto.

“It was just for a couple of time a semester,” Frisk defends with a dynamic throw of their hand and completely vacated Nice Cream stick. “Like I said, humans are becoming the norm now, so it’s good that I’m mixing them up, ey?” 

Whatever you say...

“I’m...guessing that’s a bit later in the semester,” Aofil thinks out loud. “Guess I’ll see it in a while then?”

This semester is their first one teaching for Toriel’s school so there are quite a few events they’ve not yet experienced. Well...not first first semester, but now first semester

“Right, right,” Frisk realizes with a couple of quick nods. “Well, anyways, Asriel got Kris as his human, and I got a deer monster named Noelle as my monster.”

“Is she the one who’s dad is in the hospital?”

“Not anymore, he’s been discharged.”

Good to hear.

“Susie, the lizard, and Kris tried to skip class by offering to fetch some more chalk when I did my substitution. Kris’ face turned almost as pale as mine when I waved the three full packages I’d brought in advance, halted Susie at the door too. You could almost hear the heel of her feet slamming through the floor and the door handle being crushed inside her hand. Alphys told me before that the two liked to volunteer for that.” Aofil’s smug smile drains into a thoughtful sneer.

“Fetch chalk from the storage room further down the crossing after the entrance?” Frisk wonders while playing a bit on their Nice Cream stick fastened in their teeth.

“Yeah… I mean, where else would they get the chalk from?”

“The few times I’ve seen that Fun Gang, besides Ralsei that is,” Frisk corrects with a slight twirl of their stick, “has been around that storage room.”

Really? “Really?” Aofil asks back while scratching their lobe with the end of their own Nice Cream stick.

“Yeah, that’s why I remembered when you described Kris’ hair. I see them there almost every day at the end of the lunch break.”

“End of the lunch break?” Aofil asks to clarify. They did send Kris and Susie off around lunch to fetch some supplies from that room, if anything just to have the two get some color back onto their faces. Come to think of it, Aofil didn’t see Lancer or Ralsei until after the lunch break.

Same thing every single time Aofil’s substituted for Alphys…

Oh…

Oh!

Of course! It’s so obvious!

They’re just in different morning classes.

The thought did briefly glance off Aofil’s mind that perhaps the storage was an entrance to another world or something, but pretty sure another Barrier wouldn’t have been able to be erected in a newly built school, and in the storage room of all places.

Aofil allows themselves a brief chuckle.

Silly thought.

“Seven!” bellows MK with Undyne’s imposing poise, turning Aofil’s brief chuckle into a long one as they see the darkened and intimidating silhouette standing on top of the smaller mountain within a mountain.

“I’ll be exiting stage right then,” Aofil informs Frisk. They offer to take their empty Nice Cream stick as well which Aofil pockets. Out of the corner of their eye they see Asriel wave them over. “Good luck, human,” Aofil finishes off to a chortling Frisk before heading into the shadows and off stage.

“Seven layers of cake, and this birthday will become complete!”


	40. Soaked soul

“Six. That’s how many layers we’ve baked so far. Understand? Through your seventh and final soul extract, this world will be transformed into the most splendid of feasts. We will return to the Surface to celebrate! First, however, as is customary for those who make it this far...”

“Pushing it a bit with the speech and cake motif, aren’t we?” Aofil whispers to Asriel who hushes harshly back, stopping just short of spitting in Aofil’s face.

“I shall tell you the tragic and unsweetened tale of our people,” MK says as he dramatically turns on top the large and spiky miniature mountain. Aofil’s gonna just tell themselves that the monsters have prepared for if MK were to slip and tumble down so they’re not worried that it might happen. Granted, he has armor on him, but it would still leave some bruising once he reached the ground.

“It all started, long ago...” MK begins with a solemn sigh akin to when he got his nose stuck inside a large beaker a couple of weeks ago during one of Aofil’s lessons. Same echo to it too. Hopefully less wild swinging this time. Well, uncontrollable wildly swinging. There’s no doubt that wild swinging is about to happen in glorious splendor. His dramatic pause goes on for a few more seconds than it should, leaving Frisk looking around to see if they’ve missed something. “No, you know what?” MK shouts while whipping his head down towards Frisk turning their head back and smiling eagerly. “SCREW IT!”

Frisk begins to rub their hands in anticipation.

Only to realize their palms are sticking together from the residue melted off their recently eaten Nice Cream. They squeeze their hands together as if touching for the first time in their life.

“WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU THAT STORY!”

“Dammit...”

Aofil cocks their head to Asriel looking down with a vacant stare to his eyes and with his lower jaw hanging as if on a windy piece of string as his painted furry hands move in panicked bursts from pocket to pocket. Each time he pushes against his puffy jacket with his hurried hands it sighs like a groan.

“WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO HAVE THE BEST BIRTHDAY OF YOUR HUMAN LIFE?!?”

MK tilts his blue head back, pointing it up towards the ceiling while he screams his lungs out.

“Do you have the remote?” Asriel asks in half a panic to Aofil, again just short of chucking a fine mist of spit in Aofil’s face.

“No, Frisk has it,” comes a quick answer all the while MK keeps screaming. “Ain’t got pockets since I wasn’t supposed to use my arms for today.”

“NGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Shit.” Asriel springs out of the hidden crevice, silently tiptoeing along his long steps. He moves like an old cartoon, stretching his legs further than they should be able too. That could also be the way the skeleton paint on his legs extends into thin white stripes with each step he takes.

“NGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAHHHHHhhhh!”

Just keeps on screaming, doesn’t he? Sounds like MK is starting to run out of air though. His cheeks are beginning to turn purple.

“NNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!”

As subtly as he can, Asriel carefully taps on Frisk’s shoulder. After some quick gesticulation Frisk hands over the remote which Asriel hurriedly presses on.

“Nnnnnngggaaaa-”

A flash illuminates the top of the mountain, and amid it MK takes a desperate and greedy breath. He coughs violently before taking another, so violently that he almost knocks away the light with his hacks.

Maybe Aofil should be the adult that they are and make sure that MK is alright before things continue.

“YOU!”

Too late for that.

MK spins around on his heel so that his back is exposed for increased dramatic effect. His extruding spikes are painted a bright red to coincide with the long wig fastened on top his blue painted head with a suction cup. Menacingly, he turns his cheek to expose his one opened eye. Asriel presses another button while backpedaling back to the hidden crevice, and a smaller, more focused flash has MK’s yellow eye glimmer. A nearby speaker makes a soft sound akin to flipping a coin.

Aofil can’t help but let an impressed “Nice” spill out of them.

Because it sure is.

“You’re standing in the way of everybody’s hopes and dreams!” MK declares with authority pushed through his quavering voice filled with excitement galore. “Your reserved it’s-fine-I-don’t-want-presents-schtick won’t work on me, human! I am going to give you something that will be remembered for so long you won’t even dare to forget it!”

Frisk has to let that threat sink in for a bit before they shake their amused head with an accompanying chuckle. They seem to be looking forward to it.

“Because I. Am. Undyne!” MK roars with delight. “I am the coolest, strongest, and coolest monster!”

“I think he might be going a bit off the script now,” Aofil points out to a returning Asriel. They get a knowing nod back as an answer.

“Can’t really blame him,” Asriel adds as he squats down next to Aofil in the crevice. “He is his childhood hero now, after all. He’s been waiting for this ever since we used to play ‘Undyne & Human’ when we were smaller with Frisk.”

Oh yeah, Aofil remembers that. Shame they didn’t this time around. 

Yeah...deep shame…

“It was to help me get used to things,” Asriel explains with a slight tilt down of his head. “Eventually I got around to being ‘King Asgore’ without crying from the guilt that came rushing back to me. Seeing MK go all out like he tried to when we were kids is fucking amazing. I can’t really put it any other way.”

“Right...”

Aofil’s sudden thoughtful expression has Asriel scouring in the dark for any rocky protrusion sharp enough to warrant such a hard and vacant stare. “Is there a rock stabbing you or was it me swearing?”

Aofil hums a question mark as they meet Asriel’s eyes. “Oh, no,” they realize. “I just fell into some thinking, that’s it. You swear how much you want, just not in my classroom.”

“Fluffbun fine by me.”

“Don’t push it, prince.”

“Now!” MK bellows through a monstrous cackle. Monstrous even for monsters, that is. “Prepare yourself, human!” He spins around, exposing his cyan painted tail, knocking a foam spear down the mountain for Frisk to use. They pick it up with a boasting spin to it before wrapping their hands tightly around it.

They’re not gonna drop it anytime soon with the Nice Cream glue coating their hands.

“Ready to beat your heart with Undyne’s?” Asriel shoots over with a smile while flaunting the remote in his hand.

“I’m part monster so I guess I have to,” Aofil answer with an approving nod as they tap their chest respectfully. “Go right ahead.”

And with a quick press, the cavern is filled with music. Energetic music, awesome music. Music you can fight to, music you can inspire to.

Sounds just like Undyne.

“NGGGGAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

And that does too.

MK descends the small mountain on eager and excited steps which cushion his rapid landings on uneven spikes, immediately jumping to the next one without pause for thought or balance. Maybe he’s trying to be quicker than gravity? Seems to be working, despite the logical side of Aofil’s brain protesting violently against that ridiculous notion.

Well...yeah...it’s the monsters, of course it’s gonna be ridiculous.

Hm…

Maybe Aofil is starting to concede a bit too much ground to their monster acceptance when they’re willing to hand wave away a fundamental rule being broken just on a whim. That’s for later though when the spectacle and cake devouring is over.

At the bottom of the mountain Frisk awaits with foam spear in hand, knees bouncing in rhythm with the music, and with just a wide a smile as MK has.

“Less spinning this time?” Aofil wonders with a bit of hesitation lining their words. The cloud their words form is white and fluffy, just as the monster they asked the question too, but the lining is dark. They realize that a bit too late, but hopefully Asriel won’t see it where he stands now. His focus is now entirely on the battle that’s right about to ensue, which might help as well.

“No more souls for Frisk to hold, no.” Asriel throws an absentminded nod behind him. “It’s in the corner if you want to see what it looks like. We took out the magic contraption inside it, much to Alphys’ not-really-protesting-but-still-a-bit-lamenting sigh.”

He could’ve just said ‘defeated sigh’, but whatever.

Aofil rolls their head over their shoulder as they reach with their tail towards the corner Asriel nodded at. There is indeed something heart shaped there, but it’s quite hard to pick up with their tail. It just slips off like an ice cube rubbed in soap.

“You doing alright?” Asriel pips over with a small and subtle stare. The rhythmic thudding from the heart slipping out of Aofil’s grasp is a bit annoying, to say the least. Had it been in rhythm to the music it would’ve been fair enough, but it’s not. Not even to the backbeat.

Aofil retorts with a pair of lowered eyebrows. “You ever tried to wrap your tail around something this flimsy?” Their eyebrows shoot up immediately as they hear their own words.

Oh…

Wow…

Now that was a long time ago. Damn, Aofil’s gone full circle now. ML, all the way back then at the hospital. Aofil promised him they’d make sure no one’s bullying MK. Well, no one’s bullying him now, so promise fulfilled?

Aofil can’t help but scoff a chuckle as they bring their tail around to look at it. What a strange life they’ve had. Not one they’d wish upon anyone else, but it’s the life that was given to them.

For better or worse.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Asriel is quick to defend seeing Aofil’s face melt into solemn thoughtfulness. “I’ll just keep watching the fight then...” he says reservedly after waiting for an answer that will never arrive. 

Aofil didn’t even hear the apology.

“NGAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!” MK taunts while whipping his spear textured tail against Frisk who blocks it with their own spear. Meanwhile, the song begins building its crescendo, and MK takes a step back, hunched over with a grin stretching his yellow dentures and blue cheeks to breaking point.

The light dims, as if sucked into MK, and even the music begins to slow down. Right before the buildup is about to release, MK almost inhales it into himself, and the air begins to thicken. Like a mist, but invisible, thick as soup. Aofil runs the flat of their palm back and forth, and it’s almost like they’re stirring it. “Smoke machine?” they laugh over to Asriel, who…

“Asriel?”

His eyes are closed, his head tilted down with peace and content taking root on his relaxed features. MK is the same, head bowed in respect for some unseen miasma spreading itself out like fog slowly migrating over a lake on a cold morning.

Frisk meets Aofil’s confused, yet still eager, eyes with their own mirroring the exact same emotion. They tap on their chest before motioning for Aofil to do the same. 

Their soul?

Their heart…

Beating as one.

Is that what Asriel’s doing? Beating his own with MK’s? Can the monsters all do that, or is this just MK’s magic?

No wonder Mettaton hired MK if he can captivate an audience like this.

Aofil’s curious now though. The fur on their arm is standing completely upright like a brush. It pricks Aofil’s probing finger as they run it carefully over the tops. Does this mean that they can beat their own heart with MK, so to speak?

This fog, this aura, can Aofil join with it? They are already, in a way, with Asriel, so perhaps the opposite is possible too? Is it even a good idea for MK to be allowed to use the soul of a human? Isn’t that a fusion of sorts? Maybe not, if Aofil makes sure just to lend, and not give?

They did say to Asriel that they were ready to beat their heart with MK.

Aofil closes their eyes and relaxes their body. Their head tilts slightly down like Asriel’s does. Not as much though, since their nose isn’t a large majority of their head’s weight.

Wait, Aofil’s done this before…

Yes, yes they have. Sorta. Back before. With Toriel, Alphys, and Undyne. In the Town Hall, in those bean bags they dragged out of that storage they had to pick open.

There’s something similar here as well, now in the present. Something is gently bobbing inside their chest, as if floating carefully on the calm surface of a tranquil lake. Up, down, up, and down. There is a small current quietly asking for Aofil to follow along. Like a small raft, their soul is tenderly pushed with the current. Aofil can almost hear the quivering of the small waves their soul pushes aside as if politely moving through a crowded room. They can almost see the cracked reflection in the magical water their soul floats along on like a bob without a rod. A red heart with a zigzagging white tendril that’s twisted like a vine filling in what’s missing from the red.

The disfiguring reflection from the increasingly rapid water makes the scar on Aofil’s soul straight. They sigh at the sight.

“Your imagination is vivid,” comes a laughter from beside them. Not one, but two voices, laughing in unison. One is Asriel’s, letting the warm tone he’s gotten from his father dance along the calm from his mother as the current caresses him closer to Aofil. That other voice though... 

It’s almost like a whisper, easily mistaken from the wind if there was any. It’s not a voice Aofil can mistake though, not even in the most violent of storms. 

They’ve heard it too many times not to recognize it even as the quiet and subdued nature it has now.

It’s their own.

From when they were a child.

“Asriel?” Aofil asks through their soul. Again, they hear it speak in two voices. Their own as it is now, loud and clear. Their other is quieter than Asriel’s second one, more subdued, less powerful in comparison to Aofil’s own voice.

A sliver of a human child’s in comparison to a sliver of a monster child’s.

“We’ll keep this between us, right?” Asriel asks with a friendly chuckle. It reminds Aofil of when they snuck some candy to their bigger brother. They used those exact words, with the exact same childish laughter to it. “And before you ask, no, I don’t associate this with Chara.”

Aofil nods even though their mind is too busy taking in their surroundings to fully understand what Asriel meant by not associating Aofil with Chara.

“I promised Frisk,” he appends with another chuckle, albeit one out of courtesy rather than catharsis.

“Is this MK’s magic?” Aofil wonders, the small goat inside them wondering the same. It gives their curious query a hint of wonder to their wonder, and Aofil can’t help but be swept by it as well. “It’s… I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Can’t say I’ve done something like this before,” Asriel admits. “I think this is your doing, actually.”

“Mine?” the younger Asriel asks through Aofil, his awestruck wonder overpowering even an adult human.

“No, Aofil’s,” Asriel corrects.

“Oh,” Aofil says in the younger Asriel’s stead. “I see.”

“Can’t say that it’s comfortable hearing someone else imitate me for a change.”

Aofil looks around again to sate their and the smaller Asriel’s curiosity. The horizon has turned a subtle playful pink as if very early morning. It glistens as it grows, turning the cracked reflection a uniform pink, as if the two parts have melded together. Aofil looks over to Asriel.

“Different different, but same.”

“Yeah.”

They pause for a brief moment, only realizing their voices after their words escaped them.

“Is this also part of my vivid imagination?” Asriel hears his younger self ask.

“You’re asking a monster who can’t do magic on his own about this, you know?” Aofil hears their younger self answer. “I am not gonna say that it isn’t though. That much I am certain.”

“Must be a bit of yours as well,” Aofil voices with the one that isn’t their own. “If just a little bit?”

“Careful,” Aofil’s younger self warns, “if you pretend to enjoy sounding like a monster goat I might think you might want to become one. Imagine how you’ll sound then?”

A sharp silence springs up between the two bobbing souls.

“Don’t,” Asriel demands, but it’s like a child trying to beg for a cookie before having finished their vegetables. “I’ll say something embarrassing in your voice if you do what I know what you’re about to do.”

There is nothing Asriel can say that will hold the tiniest candle against what has exploded with relentless glee inside Aofil’s mind. Something they never knew they’d longed for, until know. 

“Like...like...uh...”

And they couldn’t be happier about it. 

“Don’t, Aofil,” Asriel repeats, his own voice having returned to him in this desperate time of need. It is quivering with more fear than Aofil could ever muster as a human. “Not that.”

His desperation falls on deaf ears though. Aofil won’t acknowledge the demand, they won’t negotiate on this. They never got to hear it before, and they’re never gonna hear it again in the future.

For this moment, and in this moment only.

“Just because I said that this will be kept between us doesn’t mean that you shou-”

A bleat flows from Aofil through the voice of a kid so fluffy and cute they’re afraid their soul will melt and become like a spot of oil on MK’s magic water. They’ll dissipate content having finally heard the spring morning call of a magical goat kid.

“Oh...my...god...” they say quietly in an attempt to take in the most adorable sound they’ve heard in their entire life. 

But to no avail.

“Did you have to?” Asriel asks through a defeated sigh.

“I did, yes,” Aofil explains very thoroughly and intricate to rule out any doubt.

So. Damn. Daintily.

“Heh,” Aofil chuckles as a thought strikes them. “I was kidding myself.”

Asriel’s soul does its best to try and submerge itself underneath the water, but like a nibbling fish stealing the bait, his white and red bob comes bouncing out the water again with a long and weary sigh.

“Yoooo!”

In what must be the middle of the lake, a pink heart bounces eagerly.

“You’re here!”

“MK?” Aofil asks the bright soul.

“Aofil? Wow! Your soul is as pink as mine!”

Actually, now that Aofil thinks about it. “Why is your soul pink, MK? Aren’t monster souls white?”

“My soul was white a couple of minutes or so ago, but then I was dropped into this lake and became pink. Yo, maybe it’s your red soul coloring it a bit, Aofil? Since you’re a human? I know I can’t make something this visual by myself.”

Not like Aofil would know. “Sure,” they answer. “Asriel said this was my imagination or something.”

“Not really Undyne-ish...” MK whispers a bit too loud. He immediately clears his soul throat… Or something… “Could I borrow some of your soul? The both of you?” he quickly perks uo, his soul expanding as if taking a breath. “Just for one attack? Please?”

“That’s kinda why we’re here,” Asriel chimes in. “I asked Aofil if they wanted to beat their heart with Undyne, and so here we are.”

Wherever ‘here’ is. Some aura perhaps?

“Is this your magic?” Aofil knows they shouldn’t really ask a monster that, but with the three of them being souls in this dreamlike moment, it’s as good a time as any to pop the question.

“Sorta?” MK answers as if not understanding it himself. “M has helped me develop it for his shows to cut down the special effects budget.”

Aofil was correct in that guess.

“I kinda invite monsters to join together in imagining stuff, and stuff. It only works if they want to though.”

“So like Radentim but with imagining instead of making a new image?” Aofil hazards a guess.

“...I guess.”

Good enough.

“It’s strange that you’re here though, Aofil,” MK voices with a bit of confusion to his pink aura, muting its color the slightest. “Since, you know, you’re not a monster. No offense! I only planned for Az to help me, that’s it.”

“We should hurry up with this before Frisk gets worried,” Asriel cuts in without letting the smallest thoughtful beat pass lest more questions are asked. “So how do I do this, MK?”

“Just...um...float into me?”

He doesn’t sound convinced that his idea would actually work.

“I’ve...not done this before, and with a human soul here, that might be a bit too much...” MK’s glow softens further, almost exposing the scars on Aofil’s and Asriel’s souls. “I promise I’ll be careful? Asriel’s being a Boss Monster is enough for what I had planned, but if you want to help, Aofil?”

“That’s fine,” Aofil answers after a long and metaphorical stare from Asriel. “Let’s not put Frisk in any danger.”

And just like that, Aofil finds themselves in the crevice again. They tap against their chest, but the lake is gone, and so is the misty miasma.

They’re still a bit wet from before, but not drenched like they’ve recently been bobbing in water.

Their eyes must’ve gotten used to the dark from being closed because they have to squint when they look over to Asriel. His head is still bowed down, but now his hand is raised, his cupped palm pointing towards MK.

And speaking of MK…

“HUMAN!” he roars, cyan lightning shooting out from him like crackling whips.

“Oh yes!” Frisk returns with an ecstatic cheer.

“NOW I’LL SHOW YOU THE POWER OF ANIME!”

Asriel’s soft features turns into a betrayed grimace. It summons a wide grin on Aofil’s face.

“Bleating or anime, Asriel? Pick your poison.”


	41. Battle against a true friend

“Wham!”

Aofil mouths along to the glorious battle playing out before them.

“Schwing!”

They’re a kid again. Monster goat kid or human kid, doesn’t matter in the slightest at the moment.

“Boom! Pam! Wham!”

MK’s cyan lightning brushes past Frisk’s cheek, illuminating their stretching smile. They thrust their foam spear against their opponent glowing with a pulsating aura around him. It’s being squeezed out the seams of his dark armor, sprouting like glowing volcanoes spewing magical smoke that weave into long and crackling ropes that absorb MK’s excited breathing like springs.

Pretty sure Undyne is taking notes so viciously the paper she’s scribbling on is at risk of catching fire.

“I, Undyne,” MK declares with tears in his eyes, “am the strongest and coolest monster!”

He slashes upward with his tail, letting his painted spear clash against the foam one in Frisk’s gripping hands. The clash stops just short of devolving into a monologue from MK.

But just barely.

The two combatants push away, regaining balance by hand from the human, and cyan tendril from the monster. Subtle tapping from the gravel the two friends disturb by their hard braking is like the first drizzle from an approaching hail storm, telling of the violent event about to unfold.

The impressed moment of silence is interrupted by Aofil misjudging the volume of their cheer. “AWESOOmmee...” After their upraised arms fall down as quickly as their smile does they slink back into the crevice with their tail between their legs.

If only they were a goat kid then they could explain away this embarrassing display they just made.

Aofil bleats quietly to themselves.

Nope, didn’t work.

They bleat again through their pouted lips.

“Yooo!” MK forces through his gritted, uneven, and yellowed teeth. “Human! You’re strong to be able to stand against Undyne!”

“She’s really cool!” Frisk shouts back while pointing menacingly with their spear folded under their outstretched arm. “But she’s not the coolest monster!”

A blinding light surges through the many long tendrils flowing out of MK. It forces the armor off of him in a flash of purple magic. Before anyone can realize the complementary coloring of MK’s yellow skin and his purple magic, a new set of armor is forged around him. It is as rugged and spiky as the small mountain behind him, darkening into an obsidian texture that solidifies with a crackling shine to it.

“What! Did!”

Despite it’s perceived hardness it expands and contrasts rhythmically as MK breathes in deeply.

“You!”

His eyes glaring harder than his armor.

“Say!”

A tidal wave of air slam against Frisk, but they weather it like it was nothing. They flick their head to the side to get their ruffled hair out of their eyes. “The truth!” they reply as they thrust the blunt end of their spear against the ground. “I challenge your declaration, Undyne!”

“Oh boy...”

Aofil snaps their head away from MK’s huffing to Asriel wobbling down onto his rear with one hand providing much needed support for his spinning head.

“MK took a bit too much from me there.”

Uh oh.

Around MK, an iridescent shine of purple and cyan flash, like on the surface of a soap bubble, flow in front of his lowered posture. With a more compact sound than what his conjured armor produced, a shield in the form of the delta rune is formed. Cyan wings and symbols dot the crystal-like purple magic forming the base.

Behind it, MK’s tendrils begin to hover, the same combination of purple and cyan slowly dancing up the tendrils. The magic twists together at the tip, forming identical crystals as on MK’s shield.

“She! Is!” he roars, sending his tendrils against Frisk. “The! Coolest!”

The slender attacks whiz by Frisk, throwing their hair with the draft the violent magical vines bring with them as they almost grace Frisk’s confident smile pushing their cheek outwards. With their spear tucked behind their back and held there vertically, they spring from their defensive position now that the tendrils are recopurating. 

“She is not!” they shout back, closing the distance towards a fuming MK. He swipes his tail, it’s edges having turned sharp with one side cyan and the other purple.

Frisk’s foam spear is sliced in two as it connects with MK’s tail, but it is not enough for their momentum to be halted. Frisk connects what’s left of their spear with MK’s shield, shattering it upon impact. MK staggers back as shards of purple and cyan crystals quietly float and evaporate around him. He is forced to retract his tail behind him to keep balance.

“Because I know of another monster who is much cooler,” Frisk reveals to MK after the echoing shatter calms down.

His face drains.

“The coolest monster who dresses up as his favorite heroine to celebrate a human’s birthday.”

It tries to reform, but only begins to turn and quiver.

“MK’s the coolest, isn’t he, Undyne?”

“MK is...”

The tendrils go limp, falling down around Frisk like garden hoses deprived of water. Their smile drains just as quickly, and they look worryingly against MK who’s plated shoulders sag amid heavy heaves.

“He is...”

MK coughs a sob.

Oh no…

“He’s fine.”

Aofil jolts to the side, almost hitting their head on a nearby stalagmite. Their eyes lock against Asriel, who’s hand is now firmly pressed against his chest. “MK’s fine,” he repeats with a calm that can only be from his mother. “I think I might’ve overwhelmed him a bit.”

“Shared feelings?” Aofil guesses.

Asriel nods. “Yup, but they’re mostly his.” He motions over to Frisk walking slowly up to MK with a sympathetic hand outstretched. “Look.”

The yellow hand connects gently onto MK’s shoulder through the cloud of broken crystals floating silently around MK. The tender touch from Frisk’s hand is enough to startle him, and to send the crystals falling down onto the ground where they shatter a second time before fading away. As he sees Frisk’s warm smile though, he throws himself into their embrace, wailing for the entire Underground to hear.

“He is my coolest monster,” Frisk comforts as they drag MK closer to them. “The coolest and bestest friend a human can have.”

From the waterworks Frisk throws open, the tendrils regain their strength. Their ominous glow combines into a bright cluster as they envelop Frisk and MK.

“Are the two gonna...” Aofil hints as clumsily as possible.

“No,” Asriel shuts down with a tone that indicates that Aofil should be grateful Asriel even acknowledged their inquiry.

The point hits Aofil like an arrow through their heart. “Right...” They clench their teeth in an attempt to halt their tongue.

But it fails.

“But I’ve seen the two before and-”

“You gonna take the hint or am I gonna have to shove it down your ears with a pneumatic drill?”

Aofil is forced to throw up their palms as a sign of surrender. “I get it, I get it.”

“Good.”

“Why pneumatic drill though?” Aofil’s curiosity forces them to spurt out. “Not anything magic instead?”

“...Please?” Asriel begs with a tired tilt of his head. Doesn’t get through to Aofil though.

Since it wasn’t drilled into them with a pneumatic drill.

“Asgore planning some handyman stuff around the house? He did discuss a greenhouse one night he offered me some whisky.”

Like a pneumatic drill set to ‘really annoyed’, Asriel slams down his large and fuzzy hand on Aofil’s shoulder, bending them down as if stomping down onto a balanced seesaw. “They. Are. Just. Friends.”

Guess that’ll do it.

“I must have Noelle and Kris on my mind then,” Aofil tries to deflect with a hastily dragged smile.

“Kris?” Asriel brows sinks as if tugged down like a pair of heavy curtains. “The human in a couple of classes under?” His hand comes off to point downwards along his question, making Aofil’s shoulder spring up like the seesaw was stomped down on the other side.

Same rusty squeaking to boot.

Aofil should stretch when they get the chance. 

Not that they enjoy admitting that.

Or that they’re going to get any sympathy from Undyne when they decline to sparr tomorrow.

But anyways.

“Yeah,” Aofil nods as they roll their shoulder, “the human kid with the horrible hair.”

Asriel’s eyes glance up to Aofil’s head for a second before returning back down. “Sure,” he voices unimpressed.

“I heard you were like a big brother to them?” Aofil again deflects, albeit with a bit more of a huff to their sentence. “School thing you were chosen to.”

“School thing, yeah.” Asriel shoots a look over to MK and Frisk to asses before he continues. The two are still in an embrace, MK having fallen onto his knees, still sobbing hard. 

“I love you so much, Frisk.”

Aofil and Asriel’s eyes connect.

“Friends,” Asriel repeats, forcing out each syllable with vigor. His tongue pushes against his baring teeth like water against a dam.

And cracks are beginning to show from the pressure.

“Kris was very quiet when I first met them.” Asriel takes a steadying breath. “A human pine cone in the monster fruit salad, so to speak.” His gaze wanders off like it forgot that it left the stove on.

Aofil can see where this is going from a mile away. Even with Mt. Ebott’s girth and gravel in the way it’s clearly visible on the obscured horizon. “Reminded you of a certain monster pine cone in the monster fruit salad?” 

Asriel scoffs. “At least now I don’t have to make anymore tortuous analogies.” He nods absently. “Yeah, Kris was a bit like me the years after I came back when I first met them. I still talk to them from time to time.”

“Frisk made it out that you just had them around like a bad smell until the whole thing was over.” Maybe that was some residue from Chara when Frisk said that?

“Well,” Asriel sighs as he crosses his arms. It’s very much Asgore shining through him now, effortlessly imposing, and getting his point across with just a gently movement. “Frisk has their secrets, and I have mine.”

“Like perhaps Frisk being in love with MK?”

Asriel’s head slumps down so quickly it’s like it’s detached from his neck. The thought only manages to go halfway up Aofil’s spine before it fizzles out though. They even manage to halt their tail from stretching itself in fear.

“MK’s not the best when it comes to keeping his aura in check, so to speak,” Asriel explains while rubbing his wrinkled forehead with two of his fingers. “I mean, you noticed it and dove right in a minute or so ago, didn’t you?”

“As if I understood magic enough to know that would happen,“ Aofil defends with a small bow and added gesticulation of their hand. “I only know as much magic as you do.”

Asriel tilts his empty palm up towards his furrowed face.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Aofil again defends hurriedly. Shit! They chose all the wrongs word there, didn’t they? “Sorry.”

“I’d noticed if him and Frisk were dating,” Asriel says while joining his hand back into his folded arms. “I would have noticed it from Frisk too. That level of secrecy isn’t something that would slip me by.”

“I love you too, MK,” Frisk comforts while letting MK’s tail wrap around their waist.

Two fingers find their way onto Asriel’s forehead. They are not enough to hold in his fatigued sigh, and are quickly joined with the rest of his hand.

And his other.

“For fluffbun’s sake...”

“Should you really be swearing on your dad’s name like that?” Aofil is quick to pick up.

Like smugly leaning their elbow on a house of cards.

“It’s been a swear since long before my dad,” Asriel regrets to correct while bearing his teeth to emphasize. “Could you just trust me on this, please?”

The way Asriel almost stabs Aofil in the throat with his horns as he snaps his head over has Aofil nodding along for some strange reason. “Right, I’ll drop it.” Asriel must be hiding his father’s intimidation quite well if they are able to stand up against Asriel trying to weasel more points on his homework.

Turns out asking if his sibling had feelings for a monster was the line, who’d knew?

And here Aofil was under the impression that things were becoming easier with humans being in relationships with monsters.

Maybe they’re reading a bit too much into this.

...Maybe.

“Anyways, Kris,” Asriel clears his throat, “we had lunch together one time when the school’s cafeteria burned up again.”

“That happens often?” Aofil should make a mental note to bring with them lunch as often as possible if that’s the case. They haven’t experienced one yet, but they’ve not been teaching at Toriel’s school for that long, so maybe one is bound to happen next week or something.

“We get vouchers and stamp cards.”

Well if that’s the case maybe Aofil should roll the dice on it not burning up rather than the opposite.

“Just the students,” Asriel appends like a black mark.

Guess that plan went up in smoke long before any fire got out of control. Aofil should begin planning on bringing lunch with them every day of the work week from now on then. 

Lovingly wrapped in spider silk and topped with a neat little bow.

Ahuhuhuhu~

Aofil can feel their cheeks begin to blossom.

Looks like they’re still in love.

Nice.

“Anyways again,” Asriel tries for a second time while rolling his wrist in the air. He pauses for a brief moment to again see how MK and Frisk are doing.

“Remember when we used to play ‘Human & Undyne’?”

MK again crying his soul out on Frisk’s supporting shoulder has Asriel confident that he’s fine.

“I’m not really sure what got over me, but I asked Kris if they’d like to grab a bite at Burgerpants’ diner. I got a shrug as a response which was really as much as I could’ve asked from them.” Asriel looks over to the side while he quells a giggle. “Had Kris’ ears been long and white I would’ve thought I’d be looking in a mirror.”

Aofil manages to resist their urge to bleat again.

“Then we...talked, I think. I got some things out of Kris, which was more than anyone else had. Pretty much confirmed my suspicion that they were the same pine cone as I was before.” Asriel places his left index finger on his right pinky finger, pushing it down like a piano key. “Not sure why they were here.” He moves up a note. “Doesn’t belong in this world, and they knew it.” And another. “Felt like they didn’t deserve the happiness given to them.” He finishes of his explanatory chord with a hard press, his left finger bouncing off as if jumping for joy. “And blames themselves for not handling it better.”

Asriel sighs through his lips. “It was so strange hearing it from an outside perspective. From a human too! I don’t mean it as...you know...” He tries to explain by rolling his wrist against Aofil since his words appear to fail him.

They get it, motioning calmly with their hand while nodding. “You’re both just kids. Not even I handled it in a good way. We’re all to blame.”

“I’m sorry I was so angry at you when you came back, Aofil,” Asriel solemnly admits with his head tilted down. His ears flop off his shoulders, hanging just as deep as his head. “I hadn’t gotten over Chara, no matter how much I told myself that I had. You showing up looking and feeling exactly like them just...”

“It’s fine,” Aofil states hard. They have to nip this before it starts sprouting again. They’ve already talked about Chara with Asriel before. “It’s fine,” they repeat while flexing their palm open. “Continue with your lunch with Kris,” they calmly ask after letting some silence clear the air between them and Asriel.

“We kept talking. I tried to give advice as best I could.”

“From what I’ve seen Kris seems to be with good friends now. Them and their ‘Fun Gang’. Heard of it?”

Asriel shakes his head.

“Well, that’s what that group of friends call their group. So maybe Kris just needed a big brother for just a day? For only a lunch? You did good, Asriel.”

Asriel glances up to catch Aofil’s smile, but the one he catches isn’t smug or anything like that. It’s sincere, as sincere as Aofil can do. They mean it. God knows they’d needed their own big brother for all that’s happened. Kris got a moment, if anything, and it sounds like it’s what they needed if riding wonky supermarket trolleys with a color coordinated gang of friends is what it lead to.

“Thanks.” Asriel nods. “Frisk and I are both on the same page mostly, so I don’t have any experience with being the bigger sibling. I was the smaller one when with Chara, but that was a long time ago.”

“Can’t say how that holds up to the time I spent with Chara, unfortunately,” Aofil apologizes. “I got to be both the smaller and bigger sibling afterwards though with what I remember.”

Asriel’s fingers carefully tap against each other as he sits slightly bent over nodding to muster up strength. “What did happen to your family, Aofil?” He turns his head to meet Aofil meeting his eyes with theirs. Both their neutral expressions mirrors the other’s.

“You asking for yourself to know or to help distance yourself from Chara?”

“Both, I guess,” Asriel answers while averting in shame. He doesn’t really know exactly why he asked, but he knows he wants to know. “If you don’t want to answer then I won’t ask again, but I feel that I want to know what happened to my long gone sibling’s parents though. More so now after I talked with said parents at the church.”

“Yeah,” Aofil nods. “They’ve been helpful along this, for lack of a better term, magical journey.”

“Heavy journey?”

“That too.”

Aofil sure wishes that a leaf would fall down in front of them now. Then they’d know if they really should tell Asriel. Not a lot of chance for that to happen now that they’re hidden in a crevice in the Underground.

Guess they have to ask themselves if they want to.

Do they?

Aofil takes a steadying breath.

“If you’d asked my parents they’d deny that it was my fault,” they begin while resting their gaze on MK and Frisk hugging for support. “They’re not here to deny though...”

“What happened?”

What did happen?

Car accident? Climbing accident? Robbery? Sickness?

Murder?

Aofil’s fault?

Them being the reason their family died?

Their fault that their little sister passed along shortly afterwards?

“I don’t know.”

Aofil turns their head back to Asriel to show the tears forming in their eyes. Asriel doesn’t offer to wipe the tears away. He lets them flow.

Because they need to flow.

“My little sister survived. I had to take care of her, and I couldn’t have done that if I knew what happened to our parents and our big brother. It would’ve been too heavy for me. It would’ve been too much. I’m not really the strongest when it comes to holding up the world, as you’ve seen.”

No answer, but it’s out of respect. Now is not the time for cheering up, it is time to vent.

“When she...joined them...then what was the point to know? Only I was left, and I didn’t want to know. Maybe if I-”

“Stop.”

Asriel’s hand again pushes down on Aofil’s shoulder, but this time it is warm. Soft. Secure. There to bring them back to reality.

“No ‘maybe’, Aofil. Maybes is what Chara and I decided to act upon. Maybes is what created Flowey. Maybes...”

“Maybes got you back.” 

Aofil can feel Asriel tighten his hand on their shoulder. 

“I get what you mean though. Thanks.”

Asriel returns his hand to himself. “Good.”

“So no, I don’t know how they died. Sorry.”

“You said enough by explaining,” Asriel assures with another of Asgore’s warm smiles on his lips speaking calmly like Toriel. “They were good people.”

“They were different from Chara’s parents. I’m different too from the Aofil that were their twin.”

“I’ve figured that much,” Asriel says while tapping his skull. “You’ve done good for us monsters and Frisk though, so I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Aofil agrees while drying off their tears through a forced huff to get their emotions out of them.

“You could calm it with the assigned homework though.”

Not in a million years, Asriel.

“A monster family,” Aofil whispers. “Who’d known?”

“And a monster spider partner.”

Fuhuhuhu~

And there Aofil goes blushing again.

“Oh boy,” they cough out while rubbing their face. “Weren’t we supposed to keep an eye on Frisk and MK?”

Asriel joins in Aofil’s recuperating chuckle. “Yeah, but I think they’re fine. They needed to hug it out.”

“Because they are in-”

“No.”

Aofil challenges Asriel’s hard stare with their upraised eyebrows for a couple of long seconds before the two break down into a joint laughter.

“They’d be a cute couple though,” Aofil teases.

“Yup, that we can agree on,” Asriel nullifies by admitting. “But yeah, we should check on them and see...”

Huh.

Now this is a problem.

There are no Frisk or MK to see.

Asriel’s head slumps down again.

“Mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Again.”


	42. High school politics

“Alright...”

Asriel’s cheeks are pulled down as his hands chafe down his face over a tired sigh. His lower lips curl to expose his teeth providing a very sharp bed for his tongue which blows the most ripe of exasperated raspberries.

“Pretty sure MK and Frisk headed into Hotland,” he says after his lips smack back up again. His arms swing back and forth akin to his ears, swiping against his jacket with a faint whistle coming from the friction between the fabrics. “Don’t really know why the two would head back towards Waterfall, to be honest.”

Aofil barely has time to turn their head before Asriel snaps his over. He blinks once to realign his eyelids having been flipped over from his previous sigh. His stare is hard, like MK’s conjured armor. The green in his eyes is solid like an emerald, glistening in the dim light sneaking in from outside the hidden crevice.

“Not. That,” curls from his pulled back lips.

Aofil shrugs casually. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“You’re lying.”

Correct.

“So, we wait for Sans now?” Aofil asks as they lean out of the crevice. They stretch their back out, their tail extending into a long and yellow nail as they do. “Or do we follow Frisk and Many Kisses?”

Aha! There’s that familiar neck stare Toriel has perfected over her many years. Asriel’s taking after his mother extensively. It’s like razor ice puncturing each exposed nerve on Aofil’s back and neck from him. 

“Don’t project your insecurities about being in love with a monster onto Frisk, please,” Asriel says...no...threatens...through words slicked in vile and poison. 

Hey now! Speaking of exposed nerves. 

“I’m n-” Aofil tries to force out through a sharp gasp.

“You are,” Asriel interrupts with a sly tilt to his head. He brushes past Aofil with his hand shoved hard inside his pockets. “So don’t take it out on Frisk, please. Or MK.”

“But-”

“Don’t talk with me about it. You and I just have slivers of soul in each other’s, nothing more. Talk it out with Muffet. She’s the monster you’re in love with, right?”

That’s...actually a good idea.

“And yes, now we wait for Sans,” Asriel mulls as he meanders over like said skeleton to where MK stood. There’s still a faint aura left behind in the immediate area. Not a lot of crystals though, which was the first thing Asriel looked for as to not step on any jagged ones. 

The aura is not as foreboding or uncomfortable as the wilted flower bed where Asriel and Chara almost killed Aofil, nor as imposing and uneasy as where the Barrier once was. There’s just a sense that something recently happened here. A faint smell after a large and magnificent banquet, almost. It’s not something Aofil could describe using their senses though, yet they still sense it. Just a general sense emanating from inside them. The calm you feel after some shortness of breath. Warm and relaxing now that the danger is over, radiating from what must be their soul.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

“I think so,” Aofil answers with their brow furrowed. They’re focused on the feeling, but it’s fleeting. There’s no way they can capture it or imagine it. “I can’t really grasp what it is though. It’s faint.”

“You only have a small sliver to pick it up with, so that’s probably why. I don’t even think Frisk can sense this. I wish they could though.” Asriel bites his lips as if to punish himself for the thoughts he brought back upon him. The pain pushes away the shadows trying to build under his eyes. “Don’t think Alphys would be up for soul experimenting any longer, so let’s drop it here.”

“Frisk’s the more deserving of experiencing this feeling, I agree.” Aofil reaches down for the two pieces of Frisk’s spear. “They’re the hero of this story, after all.” They wave the upper part to halt Asriel before he opens his mouth. “It’s what I want this story to be, please? I love you all as friends and family, but it is Frisk that should be the one on the pedestal, not me. Too many strings to a past that I don’t remember with Chara and all.” The lower part Aofil uses to pat on their shoulders. “Undyne’s done her everything, but not even her training can make my shoulders strong enough to hold the world.”

Asriel nods. “Good luck with keeping Muffet from lifting you up on that pedestal with her many arms,” he offers as a bit of leisure.

For that, Aofil is grateful. “She’ll wrap me up and eat me whole before I let that happen.”

A silence so heavy it smothers the faint aura falls over the human and the monster as their gears grind to deduce the exact meaning of what Aofil just said.

“That sounded better in my head,” Aofil thinks out loud while scratching their temple with the end of Frisk’s broken spear.

“You keep that between the two of you,” Asriel pushes out of him with a startled snicker and both his flats held up to protect himself from the images flashing in his head. “Got things to talk about, remember?”

As subtly as a train passing by on uneven tracks with cargo full of loose church bells, Aofil clears their throat. “How does this aura feel to you?” they while circling their hand around where think the aura is. And also to not let on that they’re enjoying the images flashing inside their head. “If I’m feeling it faintly I’m guessing it’s more thicker for you?”

Asriel lips part for a brief moment before they clamp together with an audible wet smack as he tries to make room in his mind for how to explain it to Aofil. He rolls his hand in the air, but the quiet wind he stirs up don’t seem to help either. “It’s like...” He snaps his fingers, and closes his eyes.

His willingness to risk seeing the images flashing in his mind to try and explain to Aofil is laudable.

“You know when you walk into Undyne’s kitchen and get hit in the face with the fatty steam from her cooking?”

“I’m a human so I knock and wait before entering my friends’ houses,” Aofil explains while their eyes and head roll in half a mocking circle. “So, no. I think I get what you mean though.”

“Well, it’s how it feels.” Asriel shrugs. “The closest I can explain. If you’d be able to keep up on the bench press I could’ve explained it better,” he sighs wishfully, “but alas.”

Aofil might not be able to feel the lingering aura that well, but they sure can feel the flood of sarcasm spilling out of Asriel’s mouth like the Waterfall. “Big talk from a monster standing next to a human with a spear,” they retort while spinning it clumsily between their fingers.

He’s right though, not like Aofil would acknowledge that.

“Scary,” Asriel lies after quick and unimpressed glance. His ear doesn’t even have the time to flop out of his sight before he tugs it back.

And while they’re on the subject...

“Undyne’s probably gonna try and persuade me to up my training so that I can recreate this with her,” Aofil voices almost as a lament. They tap the two broken ends together, hiding the seam inside their hand. It’s wobbly, more so now that it’s broken in the middle. With each step Aofil takes it bounces like a pen waved up and down in front of their eyes while horizontally.

That trick swept across the school faster than the cloud trick they taught many years ago. Less risk of lungs bursting, so that was probably for the better. MK’s wasn’t as enthusiastic about it though, not until Frisk showed him the trick and-

No!

No.

Stop.

Head out of the gutter. Don’t project. 

“I’m jealous of MK.”

Oh that is a bad time for you to say that, Asriel. Aofil is forced to shake the rushing thought out of their head before it begins festering like a bad wound.

MK. Friend.

Asriel. Sibling.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

“His magic?” Aofil guesses seeing Asriel gently coaxing the aura towards his hand. He rubs his fingers together while concentrating hard. His muscles tense from his chest out through his arms to his now flexed fingers. Finally he opens his palm like a blossoming flower. His fingers tenses as if shocked, and within his palm is birthed a faint flame. 

The orange light casts vibrating shadows on Asriel’s focused scowl, bathing his gritted teeth in stripes of warm orange and stripes of cold dark. He can’t hold it for long though, and his determined features drain, mirroring the petering fading of his magic. 

The dancing shadows vanishing reveals his mouth collapsing into exhaustion, and he takes a couple of rejuvenating breaths that heaves his slumped form up and down. It’s not a pretty sight seeing Asriel this defeated. It reminds Aofil of how Asgore and Toriel were when the memories still haunted the two Boss Monsters.

They shiver from their own memories of the events. The first reset especially.

No. No! NO!

In the past. 

Leave it there!

“Or maybe the driver’s license?” Aofil tries to diverge away after swallowing their shiver. They offer Asriel their hand to help him up on his feet. “I heard your test is in a few weeks though. Shouldn’t be too difficult for you.” A forced smile manages to part their lips. “Hopefully they have test cars that can accompany your Boss Monstery size.”

“Yeah...” comes a defeated answer from Asriel. “Sure.” He glances down at the broken spear in Aofil’s hand. “We all know what happened when I had powerful magic though, so this is probably for the best.”

“MK couldn’t have done what he did without your help,” Aofil offers as a reminding reply. “If there’s anything I understood from that...whatever it was...seance?” No, not good. Try again. “If there was anything I understood from that joint meditation is that MK needed your magic to put on the show he did for Frisk. He’d not ask you if he didn’t think you’d be able to help. And what help you managed to provide!”

Despite Aofil’s earnest smile Asriel still keeps his thoughtful furrow. “It felt pretty good when he did his magic with the help of mine,” he reluctantly acknowledges. “It just...I know that I’m not gonna be able to do it myself.”

“Have you tried maybe doing the same thing MK did, but into you?” Aofil offers while pointing with Frisk’s spear first to the lingering resonance from MK’s magic and then back to Asriel. “Could perhaps help you?” they finish off despite knowing that they sound as convincing as when MK excused his poorly written homework assignment on him having troubles with gripping his pen that one time.

Nevermind the fact that the note which he explained himself on was written in beautiful calligraphy and every other piece of homework being just as beautifully penned.

“Undyne’s tried,” Asriel says with a sigh. “I don’t want to knock anything on MK, but if Undyne can’t, then no one can. Even when he’s dressed up as her.”

True, but since Aofil’s trying to lift Asriel’s spirit, and soul, they’re not gonna acknowledge that. Him mentioning Undyne gives them an idea though. Aofil’s already projected onto Frisk and MK, so why not seal the deal with the third monsteteer?

For the greater good.

Doesn’t mean that Aofil won’t be having fun while doing it.

They playfully slaps against Asriel’s arm. “She succeeded with these though.” They flex their own arm, but even with Undyne having coached them to the best of her ability it’s like holding a candle against Asriel’s supernova biceps. “I’ve seen the ways Fuku’s glanced at you, prince. I know that your parents did a lot of fire motif in their youth when they fell in love, but why not take it to the next level? Set your soul on fire?”

Asriel has to close his eyes and drag his neutral smile until it risks splitting his face open to take in Aofil’s tease without immediately leaving and never looking back. “No,” he states. He might still be here, but his emotions have already packed up and bid farewell. His arm and open palm are angled upwards, creating a sizable mound visible even through his puffy jacket. “Her best friend sits next to me, that’s whom she’s looking at when she glances over during your classes.”

Like a pair of tennis balls inside an unstable tumble dryer, Aofil’s eyes roll around violently as they emit a sharp scoff. “And the way her flames turn red with embarrassment when you cross by her desk on your way out?” Their confident lean in against Asriel has him leaning away and equal distance. “Not even the fires that torch the school cafeteria burn as violent as Fuku does when you slip your royal fur by.” Aofil’s beaming smile is inversely mirrored by Asriel’s annoyed frown. “You gotta admit though, she’s pretty hot.”

Asriel begins leaving and never looking back.

“Come on,” Aofil throws like a lasso against the white and furry wall facing them inside the puffy blue jacket. The lasso only catches the turbulence from Asriel ears flopping around as he spins around on the heels of his pink slippers. “It’s more obvious than that ladybug monster knocking over everyone around her with her buzzing wings when she catches a glimpse of that cat monster in the reflection of her locker. She’s spilled my tea like three times now.”

“That black cat monster?” Asriel asks over his shoulder just before he rounds the corner.

“No, that’s just her friend she stars along with in the theater group,” Aofil explains like it’s obvious after having caught up with Asriel with some hurrying steps. “Superheroes, I think. Something about eating dust too. She’s in love with the cat monster with a bit lighter fur that’s in her class. He’s a model...maybe?”

The frankly ridiculously long sign mounted on the left facing wall of the last hallway of Waterfall leading into Hotland welcomes Asriel and Aofil. Although by the name of the characters the script assigned them to be rather than their own ones. The large red letters streak past silently, casting a deep red hue across the blue hallway, blending it into a close approximation of the Ruins.

The red neon words pass by like an indirect acquaintance, barely acknowledging Asriel or Aofil by name, and the wrong one to boot. A purple color is left behind in Aofil’s eye facing the sign, but a different one than the purple hue given by the sign. Even as they squint it’s still bright enough that Aofil can feel the heat from the old neon bulbs giving it their all through their eyelid.

Come to think of it, maybe it’s not just the warm wind from Hotland warming them up. Whatever the physical reasons, they’re welcoming it with open arms. Even with their new set of dry clothes the cold from the wet of the Waterfall still lingers in their bone like a faint echo.

It’s either that or the talk with Chara beginning to settle, but Aofil would rather believe it isn’t the latter. Just how they’re putting this streak of neon letters past them, so are they doing Chara. It’s what they wished, after all.

And just like that, another train of words speeds towards Aofil with similar welcoming intent.

There’s a light at the end of this tunnel though, albeit a bit smaller, and it bids Aofil welcome again. Welcome, welcome, welcome. Never have they been so welcomed in their entire life. Technically it welcomes MK, but it is meant for Aofil.

Just how what Frisk did was meant for Chara…

Aofil sighs.

Gosh dangit all.

The sound of rows of teeth unhooking from each other emerges in a high pitch from the zipper of Asriel’s jacket. He fans the two halves of his jacket, sending a strong whiff of a hot mix of condiments Aofil’s way.

Purely on accident, of course. Asriel’s dedication to his costume might’ve pissed of Aofil in any other context, but providing a distraction from Chara is always welcome in their arms.

There’s that word again…

Any more mentions of it and Aofil will begin noticing that the word should really have to ‘l’s in it.

Wait…

Dammit. 

“Just friends?” Asriel challenges with an eyebrow raised through the top of Mt. Ebott. “Why should I believe that two monsters are just friends when you refuse to believe that Frisk and MK are just friends?”

Despite having their ammunition turned against them, loaded, and then fired with a proud and smug grin, Aofil is happy that they managed to get Asriel on other thoughts. It’ll get them on others as well. A small price to pay considering the hefty bill that usually follows thinking about Chara and Asriel’s magic.

Besides, Aofil knows full well that Fuku isn’t gazing at Asriel. She has eyes for someone else, Aofil just hasn’t figured out who yet.

Because why else would they be in high school except to form structurally unsound love triangles at the very best?

To study?

Sure... 

Not according to the homework Aofil spends time correcting at their desk. Well, their cutlery does, but if the kids can’t bare putting in the slightest effort, then why should Aofil? They gotta survey from their vantage point behind their teacher’s desk. Keep a lookout for the hesitant turning of anxious heads shifting, what they think is, subtly. Aofil knows that Asriel’s eyes are prone to wandering too because of that. 

The Boss Monsters prince does subtle just as well as Mettaton does humble. 

Only on a few occasion though does Asriel’s eyes force the rest of his head to come along on their curious ride.

Funny that those occasions seem to coincide with when Skateboard Girl decides to show up for class once each even week or so.

Correlation?

Maybe.

Causation?

Absolutely!

And Asriel can mouth off how much he wants about Aofil bringing the topic up, but the fact still stands that he turned around at the faintest whiff of high school drama.

Oh yes, if there is anything that can bring the mind out of the thoughtful and profound gutter it is the high school love drama gutter on the other side of the road. Instead of leafs floating down from trees representing deceased family members and clogging up the grate so that the gutter overflows with emotion and tears, the high school love drama gutter is instead clogged with secret love letters and silent eyes moving rapidly to catch a glance before being spotted.

Aofil can’t help but chuckle. It’s borderline sinister.

“Is that all you talk about in the teacher’s lounge, Aofil? Which student is in love with who?” 

“More or less.” 

"And does my mom know about it?" Asriel decides to pry with a smug grin.

"No, but correct me if I'm wrong, but I wouldn't guess that you'd want Toriel to participate in gossip surrounding you and your classmates." 

"...You're correct." 

Sweat is tossed off from sweaty fingers, but not fingers covered in fur. Aofil is really starting to feel the heat from Hotland now. It’s blazing orange and red has now completely taken over the calm blue of the Waterfall. Had Snowdin not existed then Hotland and Waterfall would’ve been complete compliments to each others both in terms of temperature and in color.

But no, Hotland is just overwhelmingly warm instead of just whelmingly warm like Waterfall. An extreme to a moderate.

So much so that Aofil’s beginning to wish they’d kept their wet clothes.

“Still can’t see them,” Asriel mumbles with a bit of a worried wobble to his voice. “Guess Frisk has reached the Lab already. Otherwise MK would’ve still been at the water cooler.”

Aofil takes a short peek at the bridge in front of them. After some careful consideration…

No.

“After you,” they motion friendly to Asriel.

“Magic glass underneath,” he answers while motioning even friendlier to Aofil. “I’m sure it can hold your weight.”

And what does he mean by that?

“Why don’t you show me then?” Aofil asks the most friendliest while motioning just as apex friendliest.

Asriel’s heel is raised in salute, but it’s raised for just a moment before coming crashing down at the first loosely looking board of the rope bridge hanging a bit too closely to the flowing lava underneath.

The impact from his free falling heel reveals the brief shimmer of a thick sheet of glass stretching the length and width of the bridge.

The rest of his steps as he crosses it while whistling a jaunty tune are less overbearingly convincing than his first one, and he leaves a pouting Aofil fuming.

Although that could just be the heat from the lava below.

“Some water for the travel?” Asriel shouts over his shoulder. He reaches for the water cooler. “One or two cu- AARGHH!”

Aofil’s not sure whether to laugh at the startled pirouette Asriel just exploded into, or sigh in relief that the magic glass extends to where he almost fell off the plateau.

“from the company that brought you a conveniently shaped lamp comes their new model,” Sans proclaims as he emerges from behind the conveniently shaped water cooler. “comes the newest in hiding furniture. this one purpose built for the office.”

“Or at the end of rope bridges dangling over deadly lava?” Aofil adds as they cross said dangling bridge. They breathe out as they finally set foot back on solid ground. “Yes, please,” they quickly thank to Sans handing over a cup of water.

“and some for me too,” Sans also offers to Asriel dusting his jacket off. “i’d say you almost jumped out of your skin, but since you’re a skeleton you don’t have any.”

Asriel has trouble drinking through his huffed pout.

“oh yeah, i just remembered.” Sans grabs the busy wrists of Aofil and Asriel, spilling the water for no good reason. “we don’t have time for this.”

“Wha-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be going on a two week vacation starting this Sunday so there won't be any chapters during that time. I'm a bit rude to leave you at this cliffhanger gasp, I know. I hope I've stirred enough goodwill to offset that.
> 
> If you clamper for more reading feel free to check out my ToriGorey I finished a couple of months ago: The Fireball in Jarasevo


	43. Between armor and a tiled wall

Silence.

A calm before the storm.

Darkness unfolding itself towards a horizon even less visible.

A spreading still meant for eternity.

“I think my foot’s asleep.”

A flicker!

The slightest sigh to banish the darkness.

No longer silence.

No longer an eternity resting quiet before the storm.

Because the storm has arrived.

The loud scoff of the Lab doors opening themselves for Frisk is like thunder from a clear sky. It brings with it a flash of burning orange lightning which dissipates inside the depressingly gray walls of the Lab.

“Now it’s my entire leg.”

Frisk stands for a few seconds with the door just out of sensory reach behind them. They look around, but whether they see anything or not is up for debate. With hands deep inside their pockets they confidently take a step in towards the looming darkness.

They almost hover across the floor, their shoes melding together with the dark floor as they silently float towards the large screen. Its quiet hum being the only indication of its presence, just enough for a human to take notice of.

Frisk, however, would find it with even less a notice. Like the cozy hammock their hands occupy, they know this place like the inside of their pockets, and they easily avoid even the clumsily knocked over trash can that fell during the hurried scramble to evacuate the performers tasked to celebrate their birthday while costumed.

You’d be surprised how many monsters and humans a single bathroom can hold.

Well, to be truthful, how many many monsters plus a single human.

“And there goes the other leg.”

“Are you just gonna complain?” Asriel snaps through a whisper behind him as much as he can tilt his head. With his horn locking into his father’s after just the slightest movement the turn wouldn’t even register on a protractor.

“I have blood that needs circulating,” Aofil whispers back while they try to wiggle some room for their legs to let some of it actually circulate. MK does his best to push himself to the side, but his magical armor proves that difficult. Like fitting a sleeping bag back into its casing.

“Can’t you turn it off?” Aofil asks MK like they would a TV with its remote missing and a rerun of MTT’s show playing on full blast while they’re in another other room.

“I don’t know how...” he answers after a silent beat. “It’s kinda...stuck.”

The small bathroom is drowning in a luminescent purple radiating strongly from MK’s magic. The crystalline structure is smoother than what it was during his battle with Frisk which his very intimate neighbors are thankful for. Its size however would be appreciated if it could be toned down a bit.

“I don’t know how to do that either...”

“Didn’t it break during your fight with Frisk?” Asgore asks without looking.

Since he’s physically unable to.

“Yeah, but they asked me if I could try and conjure it again after we stopped to drink at the water cooler,” MK explains with a slight hint of pride in his voice. His smile turns into an embarrassed frown as he’s forced to squint against the increased light surging into his armor and aura. “Sorry that I’m making it all inconvenient for you guys though. I’m trying to remove it, I promise.”

A heavy hand emerges from behind MK’s shoulder, grasping it tightly. The sizzling from the startled contact does nothing to dissuade the hand, and it grips tighter instead. “Well I think it looks absolutely gorgeous on you, MK!” Mettaton beams louder than what MK’s armor does. “How about we-”

“Shhh!” Toriel hushes angrily. Her sharp exhale is akin the raging foam at the bottom of the largest waterfall in Waterfall.

And just as violent in its promise.

Mettaton rolls his eyes and gently angles his prosthetic Boss Monster muzzle away from MK. “I think it looks absolutely gorgeous on you, MK,” he whispers quietly. The loud smack from him releasing the muzzle back onto his mouth has Toriel turning around for a second time.

Not much she can do about it besides glaring with murderous intent though.

And Mettaton knows it.

“You think you can perhaps take a few days to learn how to mold it?” he continues to MK, hopes and dreams brimming inside his lucrative suggestion. “It would do great for my next collection.”

That however earns him a swift bonk on top his head, sending his piston-suspended neck down and up, causing his stapled-on ears to wave in a similar pattern.

How Muffet found enough clearance to build up such force behind her downwards swing is something Aofil will be thinking about for quite a while, but for now it seems to have done the trick. “We’ll talk later, darling,” Mettaton smiles to MK before clearing his throat of a loose bolt.

“YOU WOULDN’T HAVE SUCH TROUBLES WITH YOUR HUMAN LEGS IF YOU’D LEFT YOUR TAIL BEHIND!” Papyrus whispers way too close to Aofil’s ear. He’s managed to somehow shuffle himself from one corner of the bathroom to the other past all of the monsters undetected. He can suck in his stomach a bit more than anyone else can though, so that’s perhaps checks out?

Something to ponder later as Aofil has something else on their mind at the moment. The audacity of Papyrus’ disgusting statement rings louder in their ear than what his voice does. Due to their current inability to do anything of their ability, Aofil’s willing to let that slide just like their shattered eardrum is about to do out of their ear with a viscous plop.

“if you need to amputate one leg you have one in reserve,” Sans adds for reasons unknown. “albeit a bit more scaly, but you humans are good at adapting, no?”

“I’m good now,” Aofil says with a smile dragged without emotion. The shock from Papyrus’ ‘whisper’ has their heart pumping a bit faster, forcing some fresh blood through the blockade created by their very close friends.

Could’ve done with only having distant acquaintances at the moment, to be honest.

The bright purple of the Lab bathroom turns a strange, almost sickly, brown as Frisk’s fish-eyed distorted face pops into view on the screen brought into the bathroom for observation.

“I’m a bit curious to how Undyne and Alphys are going to do,” Asgore wonders through a kingly hum. A bit out of character, but since the bathroom still is in the Lab it should be fine. “Since the rule was that we don’t have to be in character inside the Lab.”

Oh yeah…

“Well,” Toriel makes herself heard after a very steadfast hawk, “I did have a slight talk with them about that rule.”

“An exception added?” Aofil pries while prying their left leg away from the edge of the sink pushing into their flesh with all its porcelain pressure.

“Two,” Toriel corrects carefully, “since they are two.”

“Wouldn’t one exception be enough for the two?” MK pries too while Mettaton none too subtly pries at a part of his armor from behind.

“One is for sticking to the script, and the other is for sticking to their character.”

Frisk’s face seems as confused to the explanation as the rest of the inhabitants of the bathroom. If they didn’t react to either Mettaton or Papyrus they surely didn’t hear Toriel though. 

Or did they?

“...Zit,” Frisk exhales in defeat while brushing a finger against their cheek. “Dammit.”

Aofil offers their sympathies. Looking around, they offer sympathy from the monsters too. Zits is a curse befallen only humans, it seems. Aofil’s known that blight in their younger days.

...Younger days…

Ouch.

Damn you, reality.

Inevitability best kept blissfully unaware of aside, Frisk should stop touching their zit lest it becomes infected. Hopefully they’re smart enough to not try and pop it on a live feed while as close a humanly possible to the screen.

Frisk retreats from the screen while a weary sigh escapes their rumbling lips, and Aofil breathes out in relief.

The sudden tingling inside their stuck leg from the lack of oxygen has them retreating that relief through their widened nostrils. Asriel again attempts at angling his head in reflex as Aofil almost inhales his tuft like the first blooming spring rose. His skeleton-painted horns again hook into his father’s also skeleton-painted calcium tendrils.

Or keratin tendrils.

Or magic similar to keratin tendrils.

Whatever that doesn’t make Aofil come off as racist again.

Or speciest…

Soulist?

The dark light from MK’s armor sure is playing tricks on Aofil’s vision, but with the clumsy dance the quite literal father and son bonding produces on the bathroom wall it’s not an entirely wrong description.

Aofil just gotta make sure their jugular is tucked back enough as to not get sliced opened from the sharp tips flailing around in an attempt to get untangled.

It takes a sturdy and motherly hand to unhook the king from the prince, and Toriel’s expertise even in such dim light tells of her many dealings of this exact situation. The embarrassed cheeks from Asgore and Asriel shining brighter than Aofil’s does little to protect from Toriel’s weary sigh descending upon the two male Boss Monsters like a thick old rug for the two to hide underneath.

The two large, hunched over, black and white backs gives Aofil enough room to sit themselves onto the basin with their legs free to circulate as much blood as they want. Their tail takes over the job of keeping balance, and MK gives an approving nod seeing the act which Aofil sends back with a pair of playful eyebrows.

“Do you have the remote ready for the wall, Asriel?” Toriel asks while simultaneously hushing the room. She points towards the screen showing Frisk closing in on the elevator down to the defunct True Lab.

Aofil’s just gonna assume that it is defunct and not convert precious space in their mind that could be occupied with something happier.

Like how Undyne won’t stick at all to the script, for instance.

Because, please…

It’s Undyne.

Not the knight in purple shining armor next to Aofil, but the other Undyne.

The one coming up the elevator just about…

“Ding.”

Yes, must be very defunct if Undyne has to say ‘ding’ out loud.

Frisk’ chortle is replied with the light flicking on inside the Lab. The depressing gray is replaced with the horrid clash of lime-green walls and cyan tiles. 

No visible Undyne though.

Audible she is. Very much so. She’s swearing her lungs out from behind the elevator door. It’s putting up quite the resistance despite shaking like Aofil’s door when she actually knocks on it instead of inviting herself inside with a kick and a gleeful ‘Ngaaah!’ once every hundredth blue moon or so.

However, Frisk’ attention is diverted elsewhere despite the creative bends of swears to form new one never before heard by man nor monster.

“What?” Radentim asks while disinterestedly closing the page on his and or hers MTT sponsored magazine while casting a halfhearted look at Frisk from the weathered barber’s chair standing above a sea of multicolored hairs and furs.

“Didn’t expect you here,” Frisk answers while scratching their lobe, poking at another exposed zit as they do. “Ouch,” they groan as their nail runs over their pimply perturbation. “More of them?”

“I’m not paid to act,” Radentim explains after throwing the magazine on a nearby pile with similar glaringly pink covers of Mettaton in various poses. The camera filming the Lab sure has some good resolution to it. “Just for make-up and costuming.”

“Oh,” Frisk voices like they’ve just stumbled upon the reason why Ice Wolf didn’t just request for the conveyor belt to be extended all the way to the water. “Could you help me with this then?” they ask while timidly indicating towards the now readily and redily pulsating zit on their forehead.

With a quick nod towards the now vacant barber’s chair, Radentim clears the latest issue of ‘Becoming Meta Tuned with Mettaton’ from his and or hers working bench and begins shuffling with the bottles in her and or his belt.

Creative swearing continues to force its way through the frame of the stuck elevator door, but there’s been yet a finger to have poked through. Frisk swivels the barber chair around to check if Undyne’s gotten through, and are swiveled right back by Radentim. “Any allergies?” the tentacled monster asks while gently angling Frisk’s head around to determine the best point of creamage.

“Yes,” Toriel answers without thinking, blurting out in half a growl because of Radentim. Not yet an uncontrolled bleat, but it’s getting close.

“Really?” Aofil’s curiosity forces them to ask as Frisk shakes their head on the screen. “I haven’t seen any signs of any allergies from them.”

“Frisk gets a bit bloated after consuming dairy,” Toriel explains reluctantly while carefully patting her own stomach in a way that doesn’t indicate any bloating on her behalf.

“Lactose intolerant?” Aofil hazards a guess. They’re not really trusting of it though since Frisk happily scarfed down that Nice Cream earlier. Not even with the Temmies since Frisk is too polite not to show any symptoms any longer.

“No?” falls out of Asriel’s perplexed mouth. “They’re good friends.”

Like a twisted skateboard ramp irresponsibly left on a track, Aofil’s train of thought is violently derailed. “Sorry?” they beg to clarify while leaning a bit too enthusiastically away from the sink they’re sitting on. Luckily their tail is there to catch their balance before they tumble into the mess of monsters.

“Lacktus?” Asriel tries again to no avail. He rolls his eyes with a sigh that’s more like a groaning scoff. “Green monster in our class? Has scales? Loves to draw?”

Oh for crying...

Now Toriel has to turn her head around. A teacher not knowing the students in their class? As a headmaster she can’t let that slide on her watch.

The weight of her intensive stare forces Aofil to flinch. They have to be careful not to get blown through Mt. Ebott with what they say next. “Oh yeah...” they lie through a forced laughter. “Him.”

Toriel turns her head back towards the screen.

And Aofil breathes out in relie-

“Her.”

Shit.

“You’re finished.”

Radentim allows Frisk a moment to inspect themselves.

“Although I barely started with you, to be honest,” Radentim continues while scratching his and or hers beard. It sinks back into the yellow skin very disturbingly as Radentim removes her and or his hand away from his and or her chin. “I think if I take off a bit at the back of your head you would look more a Royal Heir than a crying willow, if you pardon the profuse analogy. Will you allow me to?”

Before Frisk can answer their ears are cut by the sound of metal being viciously bent. Their body is frozen in a half-startled pose with their face warped into a pained expression as the loud and maniacal crashing continues. 

Asgore reaches over to turn down the volume from the screeching speakers to everyone’s relief.

“So how did Undyne even get inside if the elevator door wasn’t even meant to be opened?”

Aofil’s inquiry is carried on wayward by the dismissing faning and hushing from Toriel. With a practiced flick, she knocks away Asgore’s hand to turn the volume back up again. Undyne’s panting becomes audible, and she casts one final deadly glare at the twisted metal wreckage behind her before stretching her back upright.

To immediately hunch over again as she remembers who she’s supposed to be.

“Oh. My god.”

It is quite strange seeing Undyne this distraught, even if it’s only for show. A bit more strangely considering her nasally voice and large glasses resting on top of an even larger prosthetic nose painted yellower than Frisk. While Undyne is no real stranger to uneven teeth, her shoved-in buckteeth forces her to inhale the saliva forming around them.

Very clumsily.

“I didn’t expect you to show up so soon!”

Undyne turns around as she pretends to blush inside her thick palms. She gasps another slobbery breath, and peeks sheepishly at Frisk for but a moment before hiding her face again.

Frisk can only shake their extremely amused head as they make their way out of the barber’s chair. Radentim takes the opportunity to return to the, apparently, very interesting magazine featuring Mettaton on its cover.

There’s seldom a time nowadays that Aofil’s not willing to believe what they see, but seeing someone invested this wholeheartedly in anything starring Mettaton is one of those rare occasions. Must be some sort of punishment.

Frisk heads towards the hunched over scientist emitting various non-confident sounds with a pleased grin stretching their cheeks. Again, very strange hearing Undyne’s voice this waning. The closest Aofil’s heard her do something similar is when she’s imitating them saying that they can’t do another set in a mocking voice while pretending to cry.

Aofil’s not sure why that keeps working on them.

“I haven’t showered, I’m barely dressed, it’s all messy, and...”

Undyne sighs, whistling a sharp B between her buckteeth, and wrings her prosthetic tail while looking away.

Frisk hurriedly motions for Undyne to relax her grip before she destroys the tail.

“Umm…,” Undyne produces like an idle engine. Her tail is now as dented, twisted, and bent as the elevator door. With a faked laughter she throws it behind her. A shameful blush begins radiating, turning the yellow layers of make-up bright orange. The sweat beginning to bead down her nose does little to help her bashful forwards tilt of her head to see over her nose and meet Frisk in the eyes.

Just as the large-framed glasses begin to slip off the edge of her nose though, she catches them with surprising vigor. Two sharp claws, one on each side of the wide nose bridge, hold the forlorn glasses in place as they teeter on the yellow mound. Undyne’s tilted down head and sunken eyes due to the make-up summons dark circles where her eyes gleamed in embarrassment barely a moment ago.

The intensity has Radentim looking up from the pink and glamorous with a perplexed eyebrow raised. After a quick roll of her eyes she lifts up the chair and carries it around the corner.

Her? Just her?

Yes…actually. Radentim does seem like just a her when reading that magazine. Maybe she’s indulging herself? Regardless of reasons, it’s much better when Radentim has a discernible gender. Much easier to get a read on. Always gotta walk on eggshells lest the coin flip lands on the wrong side when speaking to Radentim, so to speak.

A torrent of hypocrisy is suddenly dumped on Aofil, but they’re not sure exactly why it’s come over them. Eh, whatever. They shake it off.

“50 G that Undyne is gonna push her glasses up all anime like,” Aofil makes it known to the cramped bathroom with pride that shouldn’t really be pride. “Taking all bets.”

“Of course she’s gonna do it,” Asriel retorts with a snappy throw of his hand against the screen. “So unless you’re betting against it then I’m not taking the bait.”

Oh, but you have, dear prince!

For now Aofil knows that you watch anime.

Good luck trying to dig your way out of this shame.

Asriel’s hand clenches slowly, the realization having dawned on him like a sneaky flu. His arm falls down hard on his leg, bouncing hard before resting itself limp limb on limp limb. “Dammit,” he whispers.

A flash of lightning that horizontally overexposes the Lab camera is thrown from Undyne’s face, and she tilts her head back up again with her glasses firmly pressed against her eyes with her firm claws. A cocky smile splits her lips, and she meets Frisk’s eyes through her eyelashes straightened forward in stark defiance.

“I am. Dr. Alphys!” Undyne declares with a shout that rocks Hotland to its very core!

Oh god no!

“The cake!”

“My spiders are taking care of it,” Muffet assures with a warm hand on Aofil’s shoulder.

“Oh, right,” they nod back at her.

She lets the hand rest.

And Aofil lets it rest too.

“I’m Asgore’s royal scientist!” Undyne again assert viciously, throwing her bulky hand out as if to slice the air around her in half with a precision far exceeding what the eye could interpret from her current costumed form. The back of her lab coat is dragged upwards by the turbulence created, and it hangs in the air for a couple of dramatic seconds before slowly falling down.

“I NEVER KNEW ALPHYS HAD SUCH A COMPETITIVE SPIRIT!” Papyrus cheers with a raised fist clenched in celebration. “WHAT A FANTASTIC TWIST!”

“Yooo...” The purple light inside the bathroom brightens to eye-melting levels. “Undyne is so cool!” MK also cheers.

Cyan numbers and mathematical symbols begin forming around Undyne’s now combat ready huddle. They bend and meld into a myriad of formulas and scientific expressions.

None of them close to any form of truth or balance. Baseless axioms, if Aofil was feeling plenty generous.

Would still earn Undyne a big fat ‘F’ if she were to turn those in as homework or answers to a test.

Undyne throws Frisk a notebook, “Here,” which they wield like a shield. “Now prepare to be schooled, human!”

The two pause briefly as an angry bleat makes its way from upstairs.


	44. Breaking the tiled wall

“The world of science is my oyster, and I am going to do every test I can on it!”

That’s not something Alphys would say.

“My intellect will allow me to finally make anime more real that reality!”

Getting closer.

“You, human, will be my first test subject!”

Uuuuhhhh…

“Once you’ve succeeded with this test I’ve prepared for this particular subject you’ll be allowed to proceed on your journey.”

Phew!

The notebook given to Frisk is put under scrutiny immediately along with its wielder. With each rapid whack on the doodled blackboard Undyne somehow managed to unfold out of the elevator, Frisk adds another line in their notebook with the Mew Mew branded pen taken from the colorful row of pens the pocket protector proudly displays on Undyne’s white robe as if the first few flowers sprouting through the white snow on an early spring.

The words ‘Not to be worn as an indication of intelligence’ boldly written on the bank of snow that harbors the…

Wait, what?

“I know for a fact. Monster fact. Monster science fact!” Undyne repeats while underlying the words with a thick line of chalk. “Due to humans having more powerful souls they also have thicker skulls. They may think they’re smarter than us monsters, but that’s only because of their soul constantly validating that opinion. If they’re so smart, then how come they can’t walk around a giant hole without falling into it?”

Aofil shuts down each and every of their, supposed, friends sneering and giggling with a hard stare for each one. Fruitlessly, of course. The snickering continues well after Frisk’s eyebrow’s come down after Undyne’s teasing lean and nudging elbow in their side.

Aofil do get another of Muffet’s hand placed on their head though.

So all in all a net positive.

They shut down the recurring look from Mettaton with an even harder stare and frown. He shoots a knowing glance over to Muffet before twirling his wrist to punctuate that he indeed told Aofil so.

Frisk leans back in their chair with the Mew Mew pen gently spinning between their fingers. They’re just about to retort this antagonizing axiom towards the very confident scientist, but she just readjusts her glasses with an interrupting cough before continuing her lesson.

“But since I am so overwhelmingly smart and cute and best and funny and smart and the best Alphee in both the Surface and Underground,” Undyne’s buckteeth whistle joyfully as she inhales some well needed air that almost rips the buttons on her robe apart, “I will do my absolute best to teach you how to solve the puzzles leading up to Asgore.” She points her pointer at the top left corner of the maniacally scribbled graphs and equations. “Observe, human.”

How crude drawings of various characters from Mew Mew is gonna help Frisk solve whatever types of puzzles prepared for them is beyond Aofil, but perhaps Undyne is getting to it soon.

“Here’s how my scientifically accurate renditions of the very scientifically important characters from Mew Mew is gonna help you solve the super smart and super dangerous puzzles.”

Aofil just…

Does nothing.

Not really anything they can do against that.

“First oh no.”

Undyne turns her head towards the wall in horrified terror.

But nobody came.

There’s no crash. No large and uneven hole with a struggling Alphys balancing on a unicycle while in an oddly weighted gray box with rows of lights on the front. 

Undyne’s reaction could have done with some work too, to be honest. A pause before saying ‘oh no’ or something. Aofil’s muttered ‘oh no’ with more emotion when they learned that Mettaton had to cancel the interview he’d planned with the first human teacher of the monster school, so Undyne could at least have pretended that it was Papryus’ rearranging her anime shelf into some sense of order instead of ranging the shows from ‘colorful’ to ‘colorful, but with gore that’s colorful’.

Although that would probably lead to Undyne making the hole in wall from the wrong way.

“You stuck in there?” Frisk shouts at the wall after taking the pen out from between their teeth. “Need help? Knock twice if you need help.”

“I told Undyne that we needed to weaken the wall for Alphys,” Toriel mutters with lips coiled back and brow lowered. “How in the world would Alphys be able to muster up enough momentum on her unicycle to go through solid concrete from a standstill and two arms’ length on each side?”

Toriel holds her tongue as if waiting for an answer. All she gets is a myriad of furrowed looks at her from all around the cramped bathroom. Getting an answer doesn’t seem to have been her plan though. 

“Exactly, Undyne,” she piques while dangling her head from side to side. “It’s not possible,” she then mutters in a low growl. “Now. Is. It?”

Aofil looks to Asgore for some form of clarification, but all they get is a large and confused shrug from him. Asriel sends one as well since he knows he’s also to be asked about Toriel’s muttering.

“I know Alphys is very smart, Undyne,” Toriel continues towards the image of a turned Undyne on the screen. “Yes, even very very smart,” she nods with annoyance while crossing her arms, squeaking the rubber skin gloves stretched over her hands. The distinct sound of her clenching her hands together is unmistakable, and has Asgore and Asriel backing away as much as they can.

“My leg,” Aofil whispers harshly to Asriel pushing it into the porcelain edge of the sink Aofil’s sitting on. He doesn’t hear it though. It’s all a reaction out of fear.

“And now we’re here,” Toriel whispers with tongue slicked in poison, “with the exact same scenario I said would happen if the two of you didn’t. Follow. The. Script!”

The sink shatters as both Asgore and Asriel jump back in unison. Aofil’s allowed a split second to realize what just happened before their limbs tumble into the awaiting horns. Whether by luck or clumsy luck, the horns only scrape at Aofil’s skin as they fall down, but that doesn’t stop the two Boss Monsters’ heads from being levered up and back. A duet of bleats ring out from their wide opened mouths.

Frisk looks up the stairs with a sunken brow.

Knock. Knock.

The brow resurfaces with a surprised hop hearing the wall knock at them. Frisk nods at Undyne while they put down the notebook and pen on their chair. 

“sink sunk?” Sans quips over at the bundled mess of paint and limbs in the corner trying to distinguish which part of which costumes belongs to which monster or human dressed as another monster while not necessarily having the same amount of limbs to utilize. “or sink cost fallacy?”

Just quip away, Sans. Don’t help or anything. Wouldn’t want to do any actual effort at risk of your glued on beard dislodging from sheer bewilderment over your choice to do so.

“You need some light?” MK offers as he leans a bit closer, but not too close. He doesn’t want to be kicked in the face be it by paw or shoe imitating a paw. Fair enough a worry considering the sporadic movements Aofil, Asriel, and Asgore try to coordinate to untangle themselves.

“not really helping us distinguish between the three of you when you’re all bundled up like that. it’s already easy enough to accidentally slip up and say another of your names considering they all begin with ‘a’.”

“ALTHOUGH NOW WE CAN JUST SAY ONE OF THE NAMES AND IT’LL BE APPLICABLE SINCE THEY’RE ALL TIED UP WITH EACH OTHER!”

Had Aofil not been in said tying up they’d maybe agreed with that sentiment.

With MK leaning in closer to cast some light on the situation, Aofil can now see that three out of the four total horns are close enough to their eyes that they should worry. With the hectic recoiling occurring to boot, they are now a step beyond worrying.

So maybe MK could lean in a bit less?

“I got it,” Asriel says as he pulls out his arm from between his father’s horns, slamming the back of his hand onto Papyrus’ back.

“backhanded compliment,” Sans states.

Just for the record.

Frisk and Undyne, after a minute or so of running their hands to find a crack of sorts, something they can widen to make the initial weakness for ‘Mettaton’ to crash through dramatically like planned, finally spot a small chip in one of the wall tiles they can exploit.

Undyne motions for Frisk to step back a bit while she summons a spear in one hand. From between the dueling horns, Aofil can deduce that it indeed looks very unfamiliar seeing the form of Alphys clutching a magical spear with such determination. Even more so with the vicious stab of said spear into the tiled wall.

The clatter from Asriel and Asgore’s horns make for good folly though for the scene unfolding on the screen in the bathroom. 

Frisk’s head is tugged to the side by their curiosity. They anxiously drum their fingers on their folded arms, but before they can take a step towards the escalator leading upstairs, Undyne drags her spear on the blackboard to regain their attention.

The resulting flinch from the furred foolery trying to unfurl in the bathroom means that Muffet can, with grace and precision, unmake the goatian knot of arms and legs of various shades of white. Her six arms are just enough to help up the three participants up on their feet again, and they all cough awkwardly before sitting down again.

Muffet holds Aofil’s hands in hers though, and gently sits them down next to her. She lays her head on their shoulder, and they do theirs on her head.

“I’ve done my fair share of untangling,” Muffet informs through a giggling whisper.

“You used to these big and clumsy flies stuck in your webs?” Aofil whispers back while they envelop their spider monster with their tail.

“Fuhuhuhu~”

“You’ll have to save the eating for later though,” Aofil answers while not really sure how far they mean by that. Far enough is their guess as Muffet sighs deeply and wondrously. 

“I’m looking forward to our date.”

With Frisk back on their chair, and with Undyne back at the blackboard with the pointer ready to point, the show begins anew.

“First...”

The wall next to Frisk and Undyne breaks open, sending pieces of broken tiles through an emerging cloud of both plaster and smoke out into the Lab. Frisk lifts up their collar over their mouth to weather it.

“Oh no!”

A better reaction this time from Undyne.

The single bicycle wheel underneath the emanating box-shaped shadow fading into detail squeaks as it hunches forward with each careful stride of a strident pedal. Undyne’s gasped expression begins to quiver after being held for so long, and her eyes close in pain with each poorly maintained metallic creak.

“Hello, darli-”

The processed voice of Alphys instantly devolves into a series of auto-tuned coughs and hacks that has her wobbling back and forth with each one. She doesn’t fall though, impressing every onlooker, even Mettaton himself. Aofil can hear the telltale sound of his printer churning inside him underneath his purple robe. Probably writing up a contract for Alphys’ performance.

Either that or a cease and desist letter.

After the dust clears after a bit more of Alphys impersonating an old oscilloscope, she takes a deep breath sounding very similar do a dying kazoo, and tries again.

“Hello, darlings!” she greets heartily as the panel on the front of her box blinks into a hand waving in two frames per second. “And welcome, my most beautiful of beauties, to today’s quiz show!”

A loud and mechanical clunk reverberates throughout the Lab, even shaking the upstairs bathroom as if an earthquake. Seconds later, a pair of large and ornate disco balls descend from the inner roof above Frisk and Undyne, with a neon sign proudly screaming in all its splendor, ‘GAMF SHOW’!

Wait a second…

“Gamf show?” Aofil reads out loud, causing the necks of the rest of the bathroom’s inhabitants to tilt up away from Frisk.

The sound of Asriel’s eyes widening is almost audible.

“But…I checked it,” he defends as he presses his palm against his forehead. “I took the sign out and checked that it would light up before I hanged it up! I...” His hand drops down on his leg with a gasp dragged out of horrified realization. “I only took it out a bit from the box… B-but, what are the odds? Of all the letters to be wrong?”

“should’ve gotten to the bottom of it,” Sans advises in his usual unhelping way while making sure to be far enough back and at an awkward angle for Asriel to not be able to take a swipe at him. He’s not safe from the murderous glare thrown though, but even that brushes off him like water onto Onionsan. “i’d say you’re hung up on it, but you did that before, at least.”

Asriel hides his skeleton-painted face in his skeleton-painted hands with an unpainted sigh going through his skeleton-painted fingers.

Because he boned it.

Aofil pretends their chortle is a cough by faking a few more. “Oh, it’s actually ganf show,” they correct after looking a bit closer, prompting another sigh from Asriel.

“Maybe the confetti will land on the sign enough to hide it being wrong?” he prays through his tensed fingers.

“Everyone give a big hand for our wonderful contestant!” Alphys cheers with her arm thrown majestically up. It comes shooting back down do her body, slamming into the box and causing her to wobble on her wheel as confetti explodes as if violently sneezed from the roof.

The bent neon pipes shatter as the confetti charges into them, igniting in a poisonous flame that’s mesmerizing to look at, but not really the best to breathe in. Frisk agrees to that by pushing their sweater harder against their face and backing away from the charred pieces of papers falling gently down like leafs in autumn.

Radentim shoves his and or her very inquisitive head around their corner for a moment before shaking it with eyes widened in bafflement and retreating back out of sight.

A silent beat passes before the Lab erupts in alarms, the red lights melding together with the disco balls and casting streaks of crimson glitter all around the now screeching Lab.

“Radentim!” Undyne shouts over the alarms, pushing her voice all the way from her yellow toes to overpower the upset bells. “Pull the lever!”

The alarms abruptly stop and Frisk timidly withdraws their hands from their ears. They seem quite dazed from the sudden sirens, and twists their fingers inside their ears while moving their mouth in a vertical circle to try and pop back their eardrums into fuctioning.

“Right lever!” Undyne throws her thanks towards the end of the Lab, getting a tentacled thumb up in response that hurries back to continue its magazine reading.

“I tested them too...” Asriel’s arms fall down in utter defeat on his knees. His head falls onto the bathroom wall, cracking a tile when the root of his horns slams into it. “Ow,” he states without emotion. Not even pain. Just a statement letting everyone know that he’s alive.

As if anyone would care now after two major blunders.

Maybe he should blunder his eyes and never open them again?

“It’s Undyne that’s supposed to be Alphys, son,” Asgore comforts with a large and steady arm around his kid’s shoulders. Without the slightest effort he lifts up his limp son, giving the sagged a second rapid tug to allow the loose head to pivot over to Asgore’s soft shoulder where it lands with an overly dramatic moan. “It’s not like anything’s been going according to the script, has it?”

This earns him a rather ominous look from Toriel over her shoulder, but as she sees her defeated son not even acknowledging his father’s comforting words, her traits soften. “Oh, Asriel.” She gently caresses his cheek with the back of her gloved hand. It brings a confused look on Asriel’s face feeling the rubbery texture of her skin-colored glove along with her familiar touch. 

A step up from the sad expression though, if anything.

Asgore’s right though about the script. Not from a human’s perspective though, which Aofil feels like they need to say.

“I think Frisk has had more fun knowing you all are giving it your all despite it going as well as one could assume considering it’s us that set it up for them.”

All eyes on Aofil because of that statement. Almost even Undyne and Alphys through the screen as they nervously check the camera while they wait for the Lab fans to clear out the gas from the broken neon sign.

“And by that I of course mean me as well,” Aofil appends while tapping their chest. They look to Muffet for allowance to lift their head from hers, and she gives it with an approving nod. “Everything not going according to plan feels...human, in a way, to me. And I suspect to Frisk too. To err is human, as they say.” 

They look around to see that their point wasn’t exactly lost, but it would be quite stressful to find it if one had a plane to catch. Their tongue runs the rim of their mouth as they try to figure out how to rephrase it better. “It’s like…I think it’s better this way. The script… A script isn’t really something we can follow, is it?”

To that they at least get some murmur and half-agreeing nods. From Muffet they get a full one though, as well as a pair of hungrily curious eyes.

And another pair of admiring ones.

And one closed due to a strand of Aofil’s hair lying on it.

“Had the script been followed I wouldn’t have left you before. I wouldn’t have come back after I left you. You wouldn’t have been the friends and family I’d needed.” Aofil clenches their teeth in a twisted grimace as if they bit down on an uncooked snail hiding inside an otherwise wonderful piece of pie. “You wouldn’t have been the friends and family Frisk needed, I mean, mostly.” They scoff an uncomfortable chuckle. “It’s about them today. I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Toriel says with a slow blink. “You are also our human, Aofil. Continue.”

Muffet places another of her hand on Aofil’s shoulder, giving them a smile that pushes her fang down into her chin so cutely.

“What I’m trying to say is that Frisk and I can never ever express how grateful we are to have met you, and even more so that we can be a part of your silly family, and I say that with all the love I can muster for the two of us. We’d never want you all to be stuck to some script, to some fate and destiny you can’t control. Like how you were before the Barrier.”

Aofil has to pause to quell themselves so they can finish stumbling towards their point.

“And I’m sorry, Toriel, but the script being torn in half like this is so relieving to see. It shows so much that you monsters are able to put the Barrier behind you, and doing it in such a way that has Frisk crying with relief on my shoulders, and me on theirs.”

Toriel looks at her son, who nods. “Same here,” he admits, but without any repentance to his words. “We cried too. They were so happy. So happy it was all behind them.”

Chara…

“So relieved it didn’t matter any longer.”

Toriel blinks as her gaze returns to herself. She hesitates to turn her head back to the screen, but does so after meeting the eyes of each single monster sharing the bathroom with her.

As well as the human, of course.

“The script,” she mumbles as she lays eyes on the image of Undyne and Alphys eagerly whispering to each other while Radentim comes into view to hand a magazine to Frisk’s outstretched, striped arm. “Guess it was only for me then.” She inhales in a way only she can, both introspective and chastising at the same time, but unlike the previous one’s Aofil’s encountered, she’s chastising herself. “Frisk...is an adult now.” The words seem to hurt Toriel as she immediately recoils hearing herself say it.

Her scowl fades away as she convinces herself that she had to hear it.

“I...have to accept that. I have to accept that Frisk isn’t the kid that I met in the Ruins any longer. They can take care of themselves. Frisk is an adult.” She puts her gloved hand up to her mouth, but the confusion from the touch is more detrimental than helpful, and she puts it down on her knee again where it’s damage is lesser. “I have to put the Ruins behind me. The script. I have to let go of the script. They’re an adult...”

Asgore moves his other arm around his wife, bringing her sobs and the rest of her into his and her kid’s embrace. 

“You others join in too,” he asks the rest of the bathroom. “You’re all family.”

And they gladly follow that order.

If only Frisk was here though…

Next time.

And even bigger hugs for next time!

“Alright!” Undyne shouts, startling the hugging pile, but luckily not enough for it to descend into an even bigger mess of limbs.

Would be forever locked together if Muffet had gotten stuck, that’s for a fact.

Frisk folds close their ‘Metabolism with Mettaton’ magazine and tosses it with a spin onto the keyboard of the large Lab computer.

“Time to get this show started!”

Again.


	45. Extended bathroom break

“Applications of the Undying Theorem through the consideration of multivariate fields of covarianced waves sourced by spheres containing-”

Asriel shuts off the sound on the speakers by letting his hand fall haphazardly onto the dial. Alphys’ digitized voice disappears with a last hark from the speakers’ membranes, leaving the bathroom with nothing but the unfocused breathing of its cramped inhabitants.

No difference from before since no one was really listening to begin with.

With a jaw-splitting yawn, Asriel leans back with his thumbs rubbing his temples while his chin hits his toes. “It’s a Sunday...” he mutters after a feeble attempt to smack his lips to scare away the tiredness washing over him like an unwilling shower. “I’m supposed to not learn anything on a Sunday.” Not even him pushing up his eyelids with his fingers is enough to hide how drained he is. “You a hundred percent sure about going off script still, Aofil?” he challenges with a sharp skeleton-motifed hand thrown at the screen.

The lights on Alphys’ face plate still blink and shimmer, indicating that she’s still talking. Toriel enables the speakers again with a quick twist of her wrist.

“The sources are under a the moderate effect of induction and-”

No, not even Toriel can continue with this. It’s been what, half an hour now? If there wasn’t any lack of oxygen in the bathroom before Alphys began she’s siphoned any and all of it away like a vacuum of pure...

Boring!

Too late now to enable sticking to the script again since there isn’t a single one awake enough to have that idea.

Aofil’s tempted to ignore the printed out paper on Mettaton’s chest politely asking not to restart him until Alphys’ done ruining his show just so that their heart doesn’t stop out of sheer boredom. It’s barely invested enough to circulate the bare minimum of blood, resulting in some tingling sensation in their extremities.

Although that could also be how strangely they’re sitting down, and how much Muffet is leaning on them with her smooth, yet still rough enough to be assertive, skin touching Aofil’s. They way her face is radiating grace and peace overpowers the tingling felt though, and Aofil wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mettaton sleeping next to her is in stark contrast anything but graceful, to be perfectly honest. With his head slumped to the side with a bit too much an angle too it, looking like a lazily abandoned decapitation. Had it been Aofil’s head in that position they’d probably had their jugular pinched and their throat twisted off.

The way Mettaton’s tied his stapled-on ears in a neat bow underneath his chiseled chin does produce an amused sniffle out of Aofil. Toriel’s not gonna be happy with the way he’s jammed his horns into the wall behind him to act as hooks so that he doesn’t slide down though, but the faint imagery of Mettaton hanging himself up on the wall produces a second, more powerful sniffle out of Aofil.

But again, Aofil comes back to the long and floppy ears reminiscent of the Dreemurrs hanging down Mettaton’s metallic cheeks. They find themselves caught by an idea that they’ve never thought about before. The fact that they haven’t before is strange, almost oblivious. It should’ve been the first question they asked the Boss Monsters the first night they spent in Aofil’s house. If not the first then the second. If not the second then the third. Point being, they’ve gone years without asking! 

It would be akin to the monsters not asking Aofil if their soul is a human’s!

Now is the time though. Answers are to be found, having been left buried for far too long!

Aofil turns to Asriel. “Do you use your ears as a sorta...”

Oh, he’s already doing it.

Asriel lifts one of his ears of one eye. “What?” he asks while peeking inquisitively from underneath his fluffy sleeping mask. 

“Was just about to ask you about that,” Aofil confesses with a tired chuckle.

“About what?” Asriel replies while his eye narrows from underneath the shadow of his ear and annoyed hand holding it up. “Oh, this?” he realizes while gently giving his ear a floppy bounce with his fingers. “Why? Are you jealous?” he pries with a half-confused tone to his question.

No. Of course not, that’d be silly.

Well, yes, Aofil is jealous, but that’s not important right now.

“You do that too?” Aofil shoots along to Asgore.

The slight angle he turns his laid back head on his arms crossed underneath his horns for support causes one of his folded ears over his eyes to slid off and tug like a string-switch for a lamp. “Hmm?” he voices having been switched on by his ear. Not a lot of watts in his lamp at the moment though.

“Nevermind.”

Asgore shrugs his rounded shoulders and lifts up his ear again, placing it down like the final piece of a large puzzle. He reconstitutes his lips with a quick run of his tongue, and clears his nose of any bad air. 

Toriel pulls away her own ears and holds them between her thumbs and index fingers on each of her gloved hands while casting a hard glare behind her. It’s piercing enough that Asgore rolls his head over to the side with a quick hem that pretends not to have been affected. 

The fact that his ear doesn’t slid out underneath his other one has Aofil tapping their thumb on their leg thoughtfully. Friction perhaps? Tensing it in place? Suction from the two insides pressed together? Maybe? The ears don’t look twisted enough to allow for both of his ears’ insides to make contact, but then again that could just be from the dim light currently pulsating in rhythm with MK’s heaving breaths.

Guess his armor is still conjured by some form of subconscious thought. Must be total admiration of Undyne, if Aofil were to guess. That’s the only thing that would be constantly conscious in MK’s subconscious. Growing stronger with each inhale, and calming in intensity with each exhale through his flapping nostrils.

Toriel concludes with a huffing nod that Asgore’s not about to start snoring, and places herself gently on his laps before leaning her head onto his chest. A content smile begins on Asgore’s lips, and spreads quickly to Toriel’s. She burrows her head deeper into her husband’s armor, taking delicate care not to push her horns enough for it to hurt him. He’d probably weather any pain she’d ever accidentally inflict on him though.

Aofil sees Toriel and Asgore cozying up together, folding the other's ears over the softly closed eyes and carrying that movement into a respective hug, but all they can feel is a creeping jealousy traveling up their back that smothers the ease they feel from the peaceful way the two are enjoying their shared company. 

Toriel and Asgore must be feeling the other’s aura. That warm, soothing experience shared between monsters.

Aofil carefully angles their head to the nuzzling spider monster currently napping with a smile on their shoulder.

Shared between monsters…

Not humans.

Is Muffet trying the same with her aura against Aofil’s? Prodding for Aofil to answer back with their own? She can feel theirs, right? The hope that is their red soul? Or whatever it was Sans described it as? Can all the monsters in the bathroom feel Aofil’s human aura? Like a constant buzzing of sorts? The sound of an old and weathered fluorescent lamp, or maybe a jackhammer at three in the morning?

Can’t be pleasantly sounding which how much doubt Aofil is feeling now. From what they’ve gathered from walking past Alphys’ soul lesson while the door was opened, emotions travel through the monster’s aura. Like how sound travels faster through metal than in air, if Aofil’s were forced to put a human spin to it.

Monsters evidently have control with how much they can spread their soul to others, otherwise Asriel would’ve been grimacing with his tongue out at Asgore putting his arms over Toriel like two large and sturdy blankets for her to warm herself with. Or perhaps he’d be smiling at how Toriel meets Asgore’s offering with her own arms sneaking around both sides of his waist. Another sign of leaving the Barrier behind for him.

A coin toss which emotion Asriel would show, but it would at least be one. Right now his lower jaw is hanging down as if perpetually widely surprised. Maybe if he’d had another pair of hanging ears he could’ve taken a cue from Mettaton and tied those underneath his chin to hold it up while he was sleeping?

And speaking of Asriel, would it be him Muffet would be feeling if Aofil was to try and meet her aura? Asriel is the part of Aofil that is monster, after all. Aofil’s word, but spoken with Asriel’s voice. Or something along those lines, albeit more emotional and monster like. It would be a bit awkward, if not very awkward since Asriel and all the other monsters have their tendencies to just show up at Aofil’s house without asking. Muffet could potentially think it’s Aofil coming home when in fact it’s Asriel coming over for...whatever reason. Maybe wanting to ask for some tips about university?

There aren’t really a lot of proper reasons Aofil can figure out for Asriel to come over and visit without asking, but that’s what makes it annoying when he does. When any of the monsters do.

Annoying in the sense that they seemingly always manage to visit when Aofil’s planned to set aside some time to do something that needs doing like repaint some planks or reorganize their bookshelf.

And then the monsters wonder if they can help and it turns into half an adventure if not a whole to do what was originally planned because Aofil just wanted to do a normal gray thing that’s functional, but the monsters insist that the gray should be at least a bit colorful, which turns into a kaleidoscope of a rainbow before Aofil can blink and suddenly the whole day is gone trying to wrestle it back into gray.

They’re still finding crooked things from when their house settled into its uneven squat after Undyne began taunting it.

The first and only time Aofil is ever going to admit this, but they’re thankful for Sans’ laziness.

Anyways, the mental picture of Muffet eagerly jumping into what she’d think to be Aofil’s human arms just to fall into Asriel’s startled Boss Monster arms is not really a picture Aofil would be in a hurry to put over the mantle piece. They’re not sure if they’d ever be able to put something there in the first place. If they can’t even meet Muffet’s aura-hug, then what the hell would even be good enough a picture to put up! 

Aofil really, really hopes that Muffet isn’t trying to feel for them now since they can’t respond in earnest to it. Again, they don’t know if they have the functionality to. At the same time though they also really, really hope that Muffet is trying because she wants to. That she’s not being bought off by Mettaton like Aofil suspected before. That they even have that doubt is...

Aofil looks at their chest as their defeated sighs flops their head down.

Can they perhaps ask Alphys about it? Should they even ask Alphys about it? And what should they ask, really? For Alphys to make Aofil more like a monster? Have her literally strip Aofil of their humanity? Give it to Muffet for her to become more a human? Wouldn’t that be dangerous though? Monsters can’t handle determination, and with Aofil having a red soul and-

“Stringed up in your spiderverse, Aofil?”

They lift their head heavy with thoughts to meet Toriel’s gentle whisper. “You can go back to napping,” they ask of her looking over with an earnest smile. Even with her ears over her eyes Aofil can feel her concerned look wash over them. “I’ll keep a lookout on the screen if something important happens.”

Toriel shakes an ear off her face. “Are you thinking about Muffet?” Aofil’s immediate glance betrays them, but Toriel only smiles warmly back with tender amusement. “If you want to talk about unorthodox pairings I should inform you that I was but a bar maiden when the prince of monsters first laid eyes on me.” Toriel looks up while tickling her nose on Asgore’s beard. “Isn’t that right, soup-seducer dear?”

“Yeah,” Asgore says in reflex through a single startled snore. He smiles out of obligation before his face returns to its relaxed state. “Sure, Tori,” he whispers through his exhaling yawn.

Toriel chuckles to herself. “I was actually arrested when Gerson found out about us,” she says dreamily. “But I think that offense is barred now.”

“I have a friend that fell in love with a monster before me,” Aofil explains after resting their eyes on Muffet’s gentle breathing. “So it’s not that it’s unorthodox. Well, it is, but...”

“Is it because you’re not sure how to love her back with her being a monster?”

Muffet looks so incredibly peaceful while she’s sleeping… With so many eyes closed in complete trust and love, how can she not be? “I don’t know?” Aofil answers with a heaving sigh while keeping their shoulder that Muffet’s sleeping on still so that she’s not disturbed by Aofil being disturbed. “You monsters are more...intimate? You can express your love better than us humans can. We can’t do it through our souls, but you can. I’m worried Muffet won’t...”

“She will.”

Assertive, almost ordering. Not angry, but neither gentle. Stern, but understanding. It holds Aofil down, but only to protect them.

“She asked about you,” Toriel adds. “She asked about the human that visited her dressed in pink and yellow. The human that promised her they’d visit her bakery on the Surface.”

“Well,” Aofil huffs through their nostrils, “we all know how promises end.”

“In you fulfilling them?” Toriel again asks in her assertive manner. “She was the one that kept up hope in you returning, Aofil, and she wasn’t wrong.”

Evidently not.

“We’d all like for you to have returned earlier, of course. For Frisk to have had a human adult near them,” Toriel turns her head behind Asgore to her son who’s tongue now has escaped his mouth, “and for Asriel too.”

“Yeah...”

“We should’ve been more active in finding more humans though,” Toriel admits while turning her head back onto her husband-shaped pillow. “It’s not your fault, Aofil. You are of good soul, just like Frisk. Muffet will feel your love, human. I promise you it’ll work out the best for both of you.”

Aofil’s not sure if they should ask what they want to ask. So many times they’ve regretted asking, and having it been asked to them too. But in the end it did work out, right? Toriel said as much, and it’s true. Aofil’s mouth tugs from side to side, forming the shapes of the words, but their tongue refuses to speak them.

Do it for her.

“Do you...promise, Toriel?”

Toriel meets Aofil’s watering eyes with a solid nod to reassure them that they don’t have anything to fear. Not here, not never. “I promise, Aofil,” she says in her eternal motherly warmth. “Of course I do, from the depths of my soul. Muffet will love you for the human you are.”

Just barely enough to be felt, Aofil’s tail flickers, reminding them that they can only take Toriel’s promise to heart, and not to soul. “Thank you,” they still return as sincerely as they can. Because Toriel’s monster words ring true to Aofil’s human world, so maybe Aofil can really be a part of Muffet’s monster world.

Perhaps Aofil should talk to Muffet about this? Before their date, if possible. They don’t wanna sully the dinner by potentially scaring Muffet. Preferably alone, just the two of them. They’ll let Muffet sleep it out though. Not in a million years would they dare disturb her the way she’s now.

Aofil checks the screen along with Toriel, dragging a similar sigh as she does when Undyne flips the blackboard around to show that the backside is also filled with illegible equations.

Upside down as well, but Undyne fixes that easily by bending the legs around so they’re standing inverted. Alphys then continues along with her quiet quiz.

“Poor Frisk having to study on a weekend,” Aofil says with a dramatic shake to their head. “And taking the exam on the same day.”

“Compared to the kids complaining that we don’t give them enough time to study,” Toriel adds with a chuckle that has Asgore’s large arms bouncing on her shoulders. “It looks like they’re taking it with stride. It’s not our fault though that the children don’t pay attention at class, right Aofil?”

“No,” they agree while returning Toriel’s smile back at her. “It’s the children that are wrong.”

“Naturally.”

“Which I guess is why Frisk isn’t complaining and instead is smiling widely with auntie Alphys and Undyne putting on such a fantastic show on their birthday. Sitting still and listening without taking out their phone every three seconds is a mark of a proper grown up.”

Toriel’s chuckle is more reserved this time around. “You were right about me having to accept that Frisk is an adult now, Aofil.” She taps her horn with a skin-gloved finger. “All these years I've been annoyed about being called a goat, but I realize now it's because I've actually been a goose mama.”

“You have your...reasons,” Aofil regrets almost immediately saying. They gotta choose their words more carefully about this. Otherwise they’re just gonna bring her back into her memories.

“I...had,” she replies while dragging Asgore’s arms tighter around her. “But those reasons were before the Barrier. I carried it with me as baggage. Paragraphs brought with from before into our new chapter. I should’ve lead with example and left it behind.”

“You’ve raised two wonderful kids,” Aofil tries in an anxious attempt to salvage the situation. “So don’t be so hard on yourself. Frisk and Asriel are gonna be equally wonderful adults because of you and Asgore. Goose, goat, doesn’t matter, you’re still their best mama.”

“Only mama they’ve had,” Toriel retorts before scoffing it away immediately. “I’m grateful for your words though, Aofil. The two are adults now, and I will treat them as such.”

“No, no you won’t.”

And Aofil says that with all the love they can muster.

“No, no I won’t,” Toriel repeats with a wide and thankful smile. “They’re always gonna be my kids, and I will always be their mother, and the sooner they accept that, the better. I’ll make them regret wanting to be adults,” she winks slyly. “They’ll come crawling back for pie within the week after leaving the goose nest.”

“Hm?” A single snore escapes Asriel, flopping his ears down from his half-opened eyes. “Pie?” he wonders while moistening his lips. 

Hears only what he wants to hear, doesn’t he?

“Pie?” arrives along a deeper snore from Asgore. Toriel offers a helpful claw to gently brush aside his ears from his face. “Should I put on tea?” he offers while yawning reluctantly. He can’t cover it with his hands since those are occupied by Toriel at the moment, so it’s a fierce battle between his fading tiredness trying its best to yawn and his kingly manners fighting it close. 

Toriel shakes her head at Aofil with a motherly eye roll. “See what I mean? Not even my dear husband can taut the string connecting him to my pies.”

“Hm, Tori?” Asgore asks while tilting his head down, brushing the top of Toriel’s head with his bears as he does. “Did you say something?”

“No, Gori,” she replies while circling her muzzle around his. “Aofil and I were just talking about some teacher matters.”

“Pie?” Asriel blurts out in repeat after rubbing his eyes with the least painted parts of his hands. “I heard pie.”

Of course he did.

“Speaking of school matters.” Asgore points his captured claw towards the screen. “Seems like the lesson is over.”

“...inally as smart as a monster, aren’t you now, human?” Undyne let’s go of her tail nestled neatly between her gripping hands.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you up ahead then, darling,” Alphys says with an impressed whistle as she closes her opened book in her hands. “Be sure to buy any Mettaton merchandise you come along. Toodles!”

Frisk points left and right, left and right, left and right. Which door to use? 

Undyne motions subtly, her own special kinda subtly, towards the main door, and Frisk acknowledges by clicking their pen and inserting it into the spiral thread at the top of their notebook which they pocket.

“Guess we’re allowed outside,” Muffet says after rubbing her sleep out of her eyes. Aofil’s a bit too late catching the action, and they feel a deep disappointment wash over them. Once the tired is out she meets Aofil with a smile. “Shall we?”

“I’d actually like to stay for a bit,” Aofil replies.

“Why?” MK asks over his confused shoulder. “Why would you ever?”

Aofil counters each pair of eyes thrown at them for this seemingly strange request. They motion once with their hand over to the corner. “Because I’m a human.”

A worryingly long second passes before the monsters get the gist. They all scramble up on their feet to relieve Aofil of any faux pas.

So that they can relieve themselves.

Aofil is thankful that the monsters only pushed in on their legs and not their stomach or bladder, otherwise things would’ve been very desperate. They’re not in a hurry, exactly, but they’d rather go now that they have the chance.

There’s no script to be followed so there’s no telling what will happen when Frisk reaches the next area, or when Aofil’s gonna get the next chance to be human for a while.

Before they can sit down though, they feel a presence beginning to emerge in the sheltered dark of the opposite corner of the bathroom. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Aofil darling, but may I-”

“Nope.”

Mettaton’s not allowed anything here.

“I just-”

Aofil throws their arm viciously at the door, “Out!” and to their surprise, Mettaton actually listens. He even closes the door behind him, which Aofil promptly locks.

And while they’re sitting down they might as well try and get rid of some stuffing in their nose. Going from a prolonged stay in the Waterfall to almost immediately getting put into a cramped and dry room is starting to give them some sniffles. They reach for the toilet paper and…

And…

Oh no…

There’s a soft knock at the door. Soft like a full toilet roll being knocked just hard enough for anyone inside to realize that it is a roll of toilet paper to be bargained for.

Oh no.

“MTT branded softness. Designed by monsters for human needs,” Mettaton sings. “Can I count on your testimony for its comfort, Aofil?”

God.

Freaking.

Dammit.


	46. Munstering up to talk

“Do pray tell, Aofil deary.”

Can they at least have a second or two to button their pants? The toilet has not even finished refilling for another flush and Aofil’s already smelling trouble as they exit from the bathroom door to come face to face with an awaiting Mettaton standing with his hands on his hip tucked to the side.

“With your slate wiped clean.”

That’s...disgusting.

“And after having a sit down to think.”

Not making it any better.

“And with you hands washed of the manner, I hope.”

Aofil’s the one susceptible to bacteria and what have you, so yes, that too.

“Out of a scale from ‘yes’ to ‘oh yes’, would you recommend the wonderful MTT branded softness that’s designed for human needs by monster, the all new MTT ‘Sheet for Shit’ made with the finest-”

“Stop,” Aofil sternly vetoes with their hand held upright. They shake their head while grimacing. That name… No. No. No. The hell is that name? “We’re not doing this anymore.” That’s one ply too far.

Mettaton’s eyes dart back and forth. “Yes,” he begs to differ with a single nod, shaking his stapled-on ears like a bath towel filled with sand. “Yes, we are.”

Aofil’s eyes dart back and forth. “No,” they beg to differ with a single shake to their head, swiveling their hair as if on a carousel. “No, we are not.”

“You said-”

“You didn’t say that the name for your toilet paper was ‘Sheet for Shit’,” Aofil interrupts with an accusing finger pointing fiercely at the roll presented in Mettaton’s hand. It’s adorned with small sprites of Mettaton’s box form with arms stretching outwards for a hug. Had Aofil seen those before using it barely a minute ago they wouldn’t be feeling this unpleasant feeling smothering them at the moment.

They wouldn’t even considered using it in the first place, even if it was half an emergency.

When is Aofil gonna realize that anything MTT branded is the hurtful kinda branded? A dark glyph upon which it curses the product to forever be subject to its pink marketing overlord.

“Aofy, beauty, human,” Mettaton tries to coax while extending his arm around Aofil’s neck. The robe he’s wearing does a bit to keep the segments on his arms from chafing, but Aofil can still feel each of the segments bump along their vertebrates. “Just for a second, please?” Mettaton again coos as Aofil reaches up to swat away the prolonged arm, and prolonged beg.

“How long have you been on the Surface now?” Aofil pries with their eyes narrowed hard and their voice condescending. “How long have you ignored how we humans think about using the toilet? That it is a private matter for certain percentage of us? A hundred and one percent, error marginal one percent?”

“Oh,” Mettaton pretends to think. He whistles a jaunty tune, which Aofil hazards to be the theme he’s commissioned for the toilet paper’s commercial. “An exact date I’ve all gone and forgot,” he regrets to inform while sounding a bit too similar to Toriel for it to be sincere. “I’ve been distracted so, Aof,” Mettaton continues with a pretend hurt expression on his white-painted face. “It’s quite hard to focus while feeling the Prince inside of you.”

He…

“But if I were to guess I’d say a month or so after you and the Prince...mingled. Is that good enough for you?”

“You...”

Gently, Mettaton angles Aofil’s frozen chin and head up to meet his soft stare. “I know a thing or two about possession, darling.” He runs a thumb over the patch of fur on Aofil’s forearm. “It’s in my nature, and apparently in yours too, beauty you.”

The act would be beyond comfortable coming from Muffet, but Mettaton’s knowing thumb only sends cold chills down and up Aofil’s spine with each bent strand he passes over. He’s kind enough to pluck away some wayward yarn that’s knotted itself from Aofil’s striped sweater. With his remaining fingers he rolls the strands together into a small ball which he flicks away.

“The two of you aren’t one though, I hope?” Mettaton asks after a disappointed frown takes root on his face seeing the small, orange yarn ball bounce on the rim of the trashcan he was aiming for. “A human soul is so much more powerful than a monster’s, after all. So with him having yours inside of him, would it mean that it’s actually you in control?”

The anger building up inside of Aofil is enough for them to clench their fist, but that seems to only amuse Mettaton, and he leans even closer, now embracing Aofil fully from behind. “He did steal your twin away from you, didn’t he?”

That’s it!

Aofil throws Mettaton’s arm off their shoulder. This has gone too far now. Aofil’s not gonna curse him out though, that’s exactly what he wants. Explosive emotion he can later manipulate in the editing bay to show how much Aofil is adoring his product. He’s done it before, and he sure as hell is gonna do it now!

“If any of this goes out you’ll know what will happen, right?” Aofil pushes with two of their fingers planted hard on Mettaton’s chest. “With Toriel, Asgore, everyone? You want another war on your hands? Remember the Riot? Imagine that, but with fear rooted in evidence. Everything that’s been built on the Surface will come crumbling down. Especially your own brand.” 

Mettaton doesn’t give an answer.

Then Aofil is gonna cut it straight to the point. “Whatever is in Asriel is his.” They move their fingers over to their own striped chest. “And whatever is inside me is mine. Alright? We’ve both agreed on that, and therefore it is so. It’s behind us, both of us. That includes my twin too, so don’t mention it again.”

A friendly nod has Mettaton’s ears bouncing gleefully again. He smiles warmly, but Aofil’s isn’t buying it. “Of course I understand, Aofy darling. After all,” Mettaton throws his arms out with great showmanship, “I know a thing or two about this, don’t I?”

Aofil’s reluctant to answer that. What they and Asriel have is completely different from what Mettaton has. It’s not even close! They should take their chance to get out of this conversation as soon as possible though. “Good,” they reply as they turn around towards the escalator running down to the ground floor. “Glad you got it.”

“But do you?”

With only one hand on the escalator’s handrail, Aofil’s thrown forward as their legs and feet turn to stiff concrete. They’re rescued by Mettaton’s extended arm curling around their chest like a cradle, and they’re pulled back to Mettaton staring at them with unknown intent.

“Do you understand?” he repeats.

Aofil doesn’t even understand what they’re supposed to understand. “W-what?”

“How fantastically soft and how magically refreshing ‘Sheet for shit’ is to your human moments?” Mettaton exclaims while turning his head towards a camera extended from his back. He again rolls Aofil into a large embrace. “In stores everywhere, but especially in your local MTT branded store and or mall! Don’t let nature keep you from being a star in your own home! A monster guarantee for a human product!”

Aofil’s head rolls over to the side. “Dammit,” they mutter. He got them with the manipulation… 

“Now, with that out of the way.” Mettaton clears his throat as the camera retracts back into his back with a very complicated fold of its extended rod to fit inside. “You don’t understand, do you?”

Aofil blinks. “Come again?”

“About the part of Asriel’s soul inside of you,” Mettaton feels a bit silly having to say again. How could Aofil forget so quickly? “You don’t understand what you said about it. You don’t see it as your own. You still feel that it’s Asriel’s.”

“I don-”

“You do,” Mettaton punctuates as if talking to a child. “I felt everything in the bathroom.”

Uuuuuhhhhh…

“Not your human time, darling,” he waves away with a chuckle. “But trust me that I’d love to share that experience with you one day, human.”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

“Could I get to my point?”

“Please do.” With expedience too.

Mettaton licks his lips. Completely unnecessary since he doesn’t have to make them moist to actually talk, but whatever, Aofil should actually pay some attention now they feel. If they can, that is, which might be a bit difficult since they’re feeling quite confused at the immediate moment.

“Muffet deserves better than a human that’s so unwilling to accept monsterkind.”

Aofil’s head tilts down the escalator at their friends and family commenting about Frisk countering the spin from the vents by jumping at it while turning their body the opposite way. They have moderate success with their maneuver. “They’re all monsters,” Aofil feels extremely silly having to point out to Mettaton.

Who is also a monster.

“But you see them as humans, don’t you?” Mettaton counters with a slight tug at Aofil’s human cheek. “Like yourself?”

Well… “Yeah?” Or... “Maybe?” But... “How do you mean?”

“I mean,” Mettaton tries again with his hand spinning on his wrist a bit too generously, “you’ve never truly accepted that they’re monsters in your heart, haven’t you? And I say heart because evidently you haven’t in your soul, Aofy.” He smacks his lips, making good use of the moistening to Aofil’s surprise. “It’s better for you to see them as humans, since that’s what you are, that’s what you’ve been, and that’s what you’ll always be, right?”

Y...Yes? Isn’t that good though?

“That isn’t good though,” Mettaton answers despite not having heard the question. “For starters, you are not a human. I can’t remember the last time I heard of a human with a monster soul inside of theirs.”

“How did you-”

“Alphys,” Mettaton answer without missing a beat.

“Right...”

“Might not be a lot of monster in you,” he continues while again running a finger over Aofil’s patch of fur. “It might just be a single thread in the red ball of yarn that is your soul, but it is something.” His brow lowers as he begins scratching at the root of their fur. “What do you use as a conditioner, Aofy? Because I think you might need to use a different brand that helps with dandruff. I have some on sale should you need.”

Does Aofil need to smack Mettaton in the back of his head again to ‘fix’ him akin to what MK does from time to time? They do have the right tail for some percussive maintenance at their disposal.

“Secondly, you’re not planning on spending your life with a human. You’re planning to spend your life with a monster, and that’s gonna be impossible if you see her as a human. It’s gonna be impossible for you to truly love her if you still feel as if it’s Asriel inside of you.”

“But...” Aofil’s mouth fails them as they can’t figure out the contradiction Mettaton just dug himself into. What is his game, really? To convince Aofil that they have to accept their monster part too? But why did he then say it was Asriel inside of them?

Is Aofil falling into another trap or something?

“I didn’t get a minute’s sleep with the doubt in your aura washing over me like my fan mail after I do a live show. Call it a conduit of sorts, your monster part. Your words, but Asriel’s voice screaming them as loud as he can.”

Like with MK’s magic.

With a very deliberately dramatic motion down the stairs, Mettaton shakes his head with a deep sigh. “Can’t imagine how it was for the spider monster pretending to gently sleep on your shoulder.”

So Muffet did feel that…

“The same doubt is radiating off you now, Aofy deary.” Mettaton pats carefully on Aofil’s chest solemnly. “And the same doubt that will be radiating from you for the rest of your life if you don’t accept that monsters can be in your soul.” He again meets Aofil’s eyes with his own sincere ones.

And a little bit...accusingly?

“Muffet deserves someone who can take her fully into both heart and soul.”

Aofil’s never felt intimidated by Mettaton until now. They flinch as his eyes flash with a mix of indignation and antagonism.

“You make sure those years you spent abandoning her come back with interest, you hear?”

Hard not to with his metallic face and curled metallic lips pushing against Aofil’s head. “Yeah, sure,” they answer out of reflex to get him to back off a bit. Fluffbun, how much did Mettaton feel of Aofil’s doubt? He’s borderline disgusted by it.

The monster asking to watch Aofil use the toilet for a commercial is borderline disgusted about them not being completely comfortable with their relationship with Muffet.

Guess Mettaton is getting the tail-end of this argument as soon as he turns around and gives Aofil the chance. Because like hell is Aofil gonna get a moral lesson from someone who’s moral compass is stuck because of all the shady business practices holding it back.

Turning his pink-laced coat wherever the money blows.

“We should join the others,” Aofil suggest while nodding towards the escalator. “Since I should have a talk with Muffet.”

Mettaton nods in agreement as he brushes his stapled ear out of his furrowed face. “You should,” he mutters, “if only to-”

A symphonic clang rings out throughout the large room of the Lab. Aofil barely has time to admire how accurate their swinging whip of their tail was before the melodic echo of the clang gives way to a violent crash of pink, black, white, and purple down the escalator. Mettaton’s arms and legs begin folding into each other as they extend like a pulled slinky with each, what would be, painful and awkward angle he hits the next step.

Aofil makes a show of holding on tight on the escalator railing as they step on while Mettaton approaches the lower floor like an abstract metal sculpture playing drums on two trash cans.

The ground eventually makes its acquaintance with Mettaton, and he slides to a halt with his legs folded over his shoulders and his head resting on his back with his neck curled underneath like a coil. The following silence is just a deafening as his escalating deescalation.

A couple of seconds later Aofil again makes a show of stepping off carefully from the escalator. They squat down next to the metallic shape vaguely reminiscent of Mettaton, making sure to lean weight back on their tail, just to be safe and to keep balance. There isn’t a need for someone else to take a fall, now is there?

“Nice!” cheers Undyne with both her arms thrust in the air, lifting up her lab coat over her waist. “Awesome!”

Aofil cranes their neck back as Mettaton’s tries to shake his head awake, only to collapse on its side with a soft ploff as his ear absorbs the fall. “Oh dear, oh dear,” he laments, albeit without any real emotion behind it. “Your star has fallen, darlings.”

“don’t lose your head,” Sans suggests after waiting a beat out of courtesy. “necks thing you know it might be out of your reach.”

“You need Alphys?” Aofil asks while angling Mettaton’s head up again.

“Not as much as you need to talk with Muffet so that the two of you can discuss your wedding plans,” comes a very aloof answer more in character for Mettaton. His internal printer again begins whirring for another set of contracts. How it’s still working after being thrown down the escalator will remain a mystery, but it’s a good sign that Aofil managed to reset Mettaton properly. All’s well that ends well. Mettaton is, almost, in pieces, and he doesn’t sound completely disgusted. Just as Aofil planned.

They still give his head a slight tap with their tail so that he flops down again though as they begin walking over to the Lab’s large screen. 

“Frisk doing alright?” Aofil voices curiously as they pass Alphys rolling over on her unicycle to Mettaton for some repairs.

“Taking a breather from being spun around by the vents,” MK explains with a nod towards the screen. “It’s strange though that they feel sick about it now instead of before. They’re older now, so shouldn’t they be more resilient?”

Aofil glances up to the screen showing Frisk bent over a railing facing away from the camera. It’s not close enough for them to actually see the vomit, but Frisk’s heaves are unmistakably violent. Poor kid. Getting dehydrated in the depth of Hotland isn’t really that good either. “Could someone get them some water perchance?” Aofil advises a bit hurriedly. “Maybe a fruit or something too? Unless they’re set to eat at MTT Hotel?”

“Still have Muffet in between, and more of Alphys,” Toriel mutters to herself in thought. “A fruit and some water might be a good idea,” she agrees while motioning for Sans to follow her to a nearby stack of boxes.

“Do you know why?” MK asks while snapping his head over to Aofil, eyes widened in anticipation.

“Do I know what?” Aofil replies after trying to figure out what MK meant by his abrupt inquiry.

“Why Frisk is feeling sick now and not when they went-”

“don’t you mean vent?”

Toriel spins Sans’ head back to the boxes.

“Not when they traveled,” MK emphasizes while glaring over his purple-glowing shoulder to Sans, “through the Underground. I can’t really figure out a reason myself.”

“Human kids can handle motion sickness better than adults due to the fact that their balance hasn’t developed completely,” Aofil explains while pointing towards their ear hole. “They haven’t figured out that they should feel ill about it, so to speak.”

“Oh?” MK nods to himself as his gears begin grinding inside his head. “So like, a reverse thing with my tail? I hadn’t grown into it yet, and Frisk hadn’t grown into realizing that they should be sick?”

“More or less,” Aofil agrees with an involuntary flick of their own tail.

“SO THAT WOULD MEAN THAT YOU’D BE EVEN MORE SICK SINCE YOU ARE SO SMART, RIGHT AOFIL?”

Asriel’s hand shoots up to cover a coughing attack that came over him all over a sudden for no reason whatsoever.

Aofil’s fully aware that monsters can’t get sick like that though, so they’re not really convinced by the prince’s coughing. “So about Mettaton?” they distract to bend the subject harder than the tumble he took down the escalator. “He did the thing again where he zoned out into a completely different person. Not the reason he fell,” Aofil quickly adds despite it probably doing more to paint them as guilty than it does their innocence. Added it just a tiny bit too quickly. “Seems like he’s been doing it more and more often.”

“Probably the chip he had Alphys install,” MK answers while scratching the back of his purple-armored head with his purple-armored tail. The sound is very strange to Aofil’s ears. It’s like two different metals grinding against each other, but more, for lack of a better word, magical. More arcane than how Mettaton sounded falling down the escalators. “Something to do with changing his emotions to better fit his character.”

“That’s explains it a bit.”

“Why?” MK turns around to Mettaton waiting patiently for Alphys to try and figure out which limb she should start working on. “What did he say?”

Aofil can’t stop their eyes from glancing over to Muffet, who’s taken it upon herself to help Toriel and Sans rummage through the stacked boxes. They tear their eyes off her far after it’s become blatantly obvious why they looked over. “Nothing important,” they still lie, hoping that the monsters get the gist.

Their somber intent is probably already radiating off them though, so what good did the lie do besides being obviously one?

Dammit.

“Toilet roll commercial?” MK guesses with a raised eyebrow underneath his conjured helmet. “I overheard him practicing his pitch to you before. Too bad you ain’t got Asriel nearby to cast an intense glare whenever he tries to get you to promote his stuff.” He taps on Aofil’s shoulder with his magical one. “Right, Az? Mettaton ain’t getting near Frisk with you around them, ain’t he?”

Asriel’s hand comes up to his chest, but he forces it up to his other shoulder instead which he scratches. “Yeah, too bad.” He meets Aofil’s eyes for a brief moment before returning to the screen. “Too bad,” he repeats under his breath.

MK’s not sure how to take the repeat, and his brow furrows in confusion. “...Sure...” He throws his brow open while subtly shaking his head at Aofil. “But yeah, you’re alone in this, unfortunately. I’d love to help, but,” he clenches his teeth together as he angles his head down in half shame, “I kinda get paid determining how well M’s business goes, so with you appearing on a commercial it means I’ll get more next paycheck, so...”

“Well,” Aofil drags out as they throw a thumb over their shoulder back towards the pile of Mettaton, “I kinda got a show out of it.”

“and speaking of show,” Sans chimes in while brandishing an apple and a water bottle in each of his hands. “it’s time.”

He waits patiently for a reaction, but there is none.

“show time, that i-”

“Yes, we got it,” Aofil speaks alone, but for everyone, with a forced smile thinning their lips.

“then i guess we’re gonna off-handily,” Sans continues while grabbing Muffet’s hand, which immediately drains Aofil’s smile of all and any luster, “be heading off then,” he ends while raising his voice loud enough so that Mettaton can hear.

Muffet nods towards Aofil. “See you in a bit.”

No, actually.

Aofil grabs Sans’ other wrist just as he’s about to turn dramatically for his shortcut.

“you know that it takes more effort from me to shortcut more people,” Sans’ irritated voice echoes in the cavern where him and his passengers find themselves in. He jerks his wrist out of Aofil’s hand.

“You got plenty of effort to spare,” Aofil replies while patting Sans’ soft stomach.

“it’s a pillow.”

Sure it is.

Muffet’s just as confused, but within it there’s a glimpse of wishful hope. Aofil confesses it with a soft nod towards her, and her eyes widen with glee.

“Could you leave us alone for a bit?” Aofil asks of Sans very carefully so that their intent is communicated well and clear. Each of their word is given enough pause to echo for clarification, and after turning his wide head from human to spider monster and back again, he gets the hint.

“gotta deliver the medicine, after all,” he says as an excuse before disappearing with a wink, leaving only a rushing breeze behind.

Aofil and Muffet stand alone in the subtly lit cavern adorned with pink fabric hanging from both ceiling and tables. Cups and doilies in similar hues holding the tablecloths down as Sans’ wind lifts it up. The faint smell of bakery is overshadowed by a pink smell. There’s a bit of a motif going around in Muffet’s old Spider Cafe, that as much Aofil can tell. 

…

Now what?

That’s...not something Aofil had planned, actually.

Talk they know they should, but...how? What to say?

Perhaps if they can-

A determined hand grips their striped collar, and their head is lifted up by another, more gentler hand lifting it up with two careful fingers. A third hand goes up their cheek, with a purple and roughly textured thumb softly caressing the rim of their red circle. Fourth one goes up the back of their head, each finger parting a valley to travel up to.

“Is it okay if I lead your first spider dance, human?”

The fifth and sixth arms answer the question for Aofil, dragging them into Muffet’s embrace.

And their lips onto hers.


	47. The humanity left behind

“Am I...interrupting...something?”

Aofil tries to turn to the voice, but they’re unable too. Golly, they’re feeling faint. At least it seems that they’re able to shake their head, but judging by that the rest of their body is locked tightly, they shouldn’t really. Embraced tightly is probably a better description, but the results is the same, that they can barely move. Flailing is the last thing they want to do now though while their mind is spinning.

The spider dance has taken its toll on Aofil. Them and Muffet, two for her dance, and she’s not letting go even now. Aofil again struggles to turn, but it’s to no avail. This moment they shared with Muffet has evolved into minutes, passed by without Aofil even realizing. How many? That Aofil can’t tell, even if they put their mind to it. Even if they could put their mind to it. It’s occupied by the storm whirling inside. Their lips are tingling from the sensation still lingering, their head red and hot. Each breath Aofil takes is comprised out of Muffet. They breathe her in, and they breathe her out. 

The few times they’re able to take any. 

They’ve not been let go for so long. They’ve not been allowed to even think about leaving for just as long. Why would they? Why would they want to leave Muffet now? Fuhuhuhu? She’s kept Aofil, made them hers. With her eyes, her skin, her lips. First a kiss, and then…

Aofil can barely sigh. Their head is thumping at the thought. Banging hard against their temples, roaring to be released. For Aofil to scream. Screaming is against the rules though, even with the script having been abandoned. This serene, almost subdued feeling washing over them with each of their clenched breaths. All of Muffet’s eyes are upon Aofil, but they can barely open theirs. It’s so...difficult. It’s better to keep them closed now. Aofil’s too unsure what will happen if they open their eyes. What will they see? Will they even see?

Not a single word was said after Muffet’s gentle invitation. Her determination to share herself with Aofil, to wrap herself around them, surprised them. It surprised her human. A monster taking the first step towards a human. Could that be heard of? Before the Barrier, was this a common sight rather than a seldom one? Something to smile towards instead of flinching back at the confusion of the spectacle? Muffet’s taken a step further than any other monster has done. With her instigating kiss, she’s put behind the Barrier further than any monster has. The monsters sure are magical creatures, in so many ways more than one. 

Aofil’s head begins spinning again.

What’s next? What’s to come after this kiss? They wanted to talk, but they can’t right now. So many things they want to say though. So many things they can’t say to Muffet at this eon of a moment. How will they continue? How much does Aofil need to learn before they can love her back truly? Muffet as well? How much does she need to learn about loving a human? 

She does love Aofil, right?

It’s strange that a thought like that would occur right now. Like a pine cone in a fruit salad. On a glance it’s not supposed to be there, and everyone would agree with you. No one would ever lift a finger to you plucking that pine cone away.

However, it’s correct that it is there. It is a fruit. A fruit in a fruit salad. A reserved thought in a human’s mind.

And so is the doubt rushing through Aofil’s mind. The tingling from their lips isn’t enough to deafen the thought. 

Aofil doesn’t want to eat the cone though. They want their fruit salad to be like everyone else says it should be. They need it to be that way. How else are they gonna enjoy their well deserved dessert? Are they gonna bite down and cut the roof of their mouth, or are they gonna slap it away and enjoy the fruits that are sweet, yet still so, so good for them? 

“Should I come back later?”

No, no don’t leave. Stay awhile, and witness Aofil’s cocoon burst. Watch them burst out of their doubts and accept their feelings.

“Frisk?” Aofil asks into the darkness. They’re unsure where Frisk is, but they also feel that they must call out to them. Frisk has to be watching Aofil. They have to be. “Cut me down, please!”

There’s so much blood in Aofil’s head it’s about to spill out of their ears! They’re almost faint! Muffet said Frisk would be there in less than a minute when she left them strung up, but it took way longer! Aofil’s neck is about to detach in protest. It’s been tensed for so many minutes now it’s almost turned completely into stone. Right now Aofil can choose between either pain from their neck by bending it up, or from their head by letting it slump down, but the point where one is better than the other has long since passed.

“Why did Muffet string you up like this, Aofil? And where is she, by the way?”

“Can I answer that after I’ve gotten blood to the rest of my body?” Aofil tries for a fifth time to wriggle an arm out so that they can get this damn silky blindfold off their eyes. “Please?” they repeat a bit more desperately.

“Alright, just hang in there.”

Aofil’s gonna pretend they didn’t hear that.

There’s some commotion going on below their head. Above their head? The sound of legs of wood being moved screeches against the cavern wall into a symphony that cuts Aofil’s ears like a sharpened knife. They can only pathetically wriggle in response.

Must be a nearby table that Frisk is moving, and not lifting, to Aofil’s dismay. No shattering porcelain though, so at least they’re careful about it, for some strange reason. Aofil throws their shoulders back and forth to try and spin their string cocoon around to where they last heard Frisk’s voice. When they reach where they think is the correct angle, they unfortunately begin spinning the other way. Their stomach throws in the towel, but Aofil screams internally for it to keep their lunch where it belongs. They can feel every drop of liquid inside their stomach slosh around as they twist back and forth.

Please hurry, Frisk.

“What took you so long? A puppet or something?”

“I-”

Aofil is violently startled hearing Frisk speak almost inside their ear. From their reaction they reinvigorate their swinging, which sits less well with their already startled ear. It’s all speeding downhill extremely quickly now. Through the many layers of magical silk Aofil feels Frisk catch the string pendulum containing them, which at least puts a bit of a brake on their downhill rush. A slight grace that Aofil’s forever thankful for. They can not voice their thanks though, because it would expel more than just thanks all over Aofil’s striped sweater wearing savior. Frisk carefully begins tugging at Aofil’s blindfold until they can get a good grip on it.

“This might hurt.”

Yeah…

And it does.

Aofil breathes in hard through their nose and gritted teeth. Their cheeks begin burning even hotter from the friction torn away by Frisk. With a couple of hard and sharp breaths Aofil manages to get the pain under control, and they carefully blink their eyes open to assess their situation.

The surrounding pink is assaulting their eyes, but otherwise the spider cafe looks the same as before Aofil was strung up. Same decor and doilies, but with a table now directly underneath them. An upside down Frisk helps brush off some leftover strands of silk from Aofil’s eyes with the help of their purple and blue sweater. “Thanks,” Aofil says while again blinking, but now to make sure no colored yarn gets into their eyes. There’s already enough color assaulting them.

“Thank me later once I try and make sure you don’t break your neck,” Frisk’s upside down mouth informs while putting their chin down to their chest. “Do this with your chin, and then try to curl yourself up and your legs down when you begin falling.”

Aofil instead lifts their chin to see how far it is down to the table. Their hair is just shy of touching it, so it shouldn’t be too bad. If they’re lucky the landing will distract them from their upset stomach and confused inner ear. All they have to do is make a very acrobatic move while ham, arm, and tailstrung, and then they’re golden.

Maybe if they say to themselves that it’s easy it will become easy?

“You ready?” Frisk asks while reaching up on their toes. “I’ll give you a bit of a swing before I cut you loose to make it easier for you to land on your back. Ready?”

No.

“Just do it.”

With a deafening creak, Aofil’s lungs are completely expelled out of any air with a hollow gasp that stops just short of breathing out their soul. They relax their neck, and it flops down onto solid wood with an unimaginative thud. Their vision turns grainy for a second as the liters upon liters of blood in their head rushes down to the rest of their body, bringing with it enough awareness that has Aofil extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You got some spare water?” they plead with their eyes closed.

“Just don’t choke on it.”

Aofil won’t make any promises they can’t keep.

Is what they say to themselves.

With gentle care, Frisk offers the neck of their half-empty water bottle to Aofil’s pouting lips. They manage a couple of careful sips before they feel their throat beginning to clamp. Frisk catches the sudden panic in Aofil’s eyes and stops their nursing. 

It’s enough for Aofil’s stomach to not threaten with immediate explosion though, so it did its job.

“Muffet won’t be angry if I use the bread knife for her own silk, right?”

Aofil needs a couple of seconds for their body to reset back to reality. “No,” they answer with difficulty. “She’s...”

Huh…

Where is she, come to think of it? Not here, that’s for certain. 

Last Aofil saw of her was her throat as she kissed them one more time after having strung them up. “I saw this in a human comic,” she explained with a bashful giggle before making the blindfold. “This will be a great part of Frisk shows, I promise. Ahuhuhu~”

With that cute laughter she could promise that the world was flat and Aofil would still believe her. Even more with her taste still lingering on their lips and tongue like crackling candy.

Although that could just be the blood rushing away from their head.

Is this gonna be an everyday occurrence with Aofil getting hung from the ceiling? Perhaps they should invest in a pocket knife if that’s the case. Or perhaps ask Muffet not to do it again.

…Maybe the latter is a better idea.

“I’ll be careful,” Frisk promises while brandishing the knife a bit too much akin to how Chara did the shard of glass when they took over to convince Aofil in that bus stop bathroom. Their head is too busy adjusting to not having a bucket of blood inside of it though at the moment, so they make no comment about it. “I’ll start from the bottom and work my way up. Don’t want to risk slipping and cutting through your throat or shoulders.”

Could’ve done without the explanation, to be perfectly honest. “Careful with the tail,” Aofil adds as Frisk bends over to being the unlicensed operation.

The tip of the knife stops at the surface of the outermost of the numerous layers of silk. Frisk’s fringe bounces gleefully as they throw up their head along with their eyebrows. “You still have that on you? Wasn’t it just for your role?”

Didn’t Aofil explain that to Frisk? Or was it to Chara? Or did they even at all? Oh well. “Yes, I still have it on.”

Frisk pushes up at the handle of their knife, angling the blade upwards to point towards Aofil. “Why?” they ask with suspicion blossoming on their face. “You also sounded a bit too concerned when asking me to be careful. Like, as if it was a leg or something.” The blade bounces as Frisk taps their thumb on its handle. “Why?”

“Again,” Aofil would lift their arms in a shrug if they could, “can I answer that after I’m cut free?”

The bouncing blade stops, and a silent beat passes between the two humans. Frisk looks at the knife for a second before shrugging, and letting go of its wooden handle. It lands standing in the silk between Aofil’s feet. “Are you trying to become a monster?”

What?

“What?”

“As in,” Frisk flicks the top of the knife’s handle causing it to bend from side to side, “for Muffet.”

“Still something that would be much easier to explain when I’m not wrapped up like I am,” Aofil retorts with a pair of brows lowered in annoyance. “Isn’t me wanting to get out of this proof enough?” Also, more importantly. “How do you know about Muffet and I?”

“Call it instinct.”

“Can I call it ‘bullshit’ instead?”

“Hit a nerve, did I?”

Not really.

Since again.

AOFIL’S STUCK INSIDE LAYERS UPON LAYERS OF SILK!

“That heartfelt moment we had wasn’t really goodbye, was it, Chara?” Aofil finally decides upon calling out. If only to pressure Frisk to spill their actual motives. “Still lingering around despite spilling your heart and soul about-”

“It’s Frisk,” Frisk interrupts with a tired sigh. “However, I’m still really curious why you want to keep your tail.” As a sign of compromise though, they pick up the knife and begin cutting away at the strings like they’re slicing through a cake.

Albeit entirely out of hardened frosting.

“And I know because of Asriel,” they add as the sweet and cool air of the pink cavern begins dancing around Aofil’s legs from the opening Frisk makes. “Well, to be honest, Chara knew because of Asriel, and by extension me, and all that.”

Frisk halts their cutting to sigh with their other hand massaging their forehead. “Can I just say that just I know from now on? Because...well...I’ll get to it.”

Aofil agrees that it would probably be a good idea if Frisk did. “As long as you begin cutting,” they offer with a silly expression in an attempt to show that they agree rather than outward telling. Get the knife metaphor away from Chara and all that.

“And with the way you control the tail through the monster part in your soul, it has me wondering.”

No? Is it? “I just flex my tailbone where I want it to move, and so it does.”

Frisk slows down as they approach Aofil’s waist. They look down at the large lizard tail for a brief moment before continuing. “Through your intentions, yeah. Funneled through your monster part and out to your possessed tail.”

Possessed? 

“Like Mettaton’s body,” Frisk answers to Aofil’s thoughtful expression. “Asriel said he helped test it due to the two of your souls’...similarities.”

So that’s how Alphys knew!

But wait…

“Yes, he’s been quite open about it lately,” Frisk again answers to the question blossoming like a spring flower on Aofil’s face. “Finally explains his troubles with magic, which was quite the relief to mom and dad. Undyne’s also glad for the news, since that means he’ll be able to get even stronger physically. We’ll see after today if she’ll and Alphys will try and concoct some magical training along our workouts.”

Aofil leans their head to the side so that Frisk can get a clean cut without it causing bleeding too. “So...” they begin as Frisk opens the cocoon up. Sweet release! Aofil sits up with their hands pressed firmly at the back of their neck for support. They carefully roll it around, but it’s like grinding two handfuls of gravel against each other. After bending the clicks and cracks out of their knees they jump down onto solid ground for the first time in forever. Their tail whips down to help absorb the impact. “Why again do you wonder about my tail?” 

Frisk throws the knife onto the white husk left behind with a stern expression taking over their face. “Because I want to know if I can be closer to my family,” they inform with a flat voice. “I want to be as much monster as I am human. All of this.” Their rigid finger spins around in the air in a dynamic circle. “All of this I want to also feel like they do. An ambassador is to be well-versed in both cultures they represent, and the one they’re representing that culture to.”

“I get your point, but don’t try and convince me you’re doing this for a job, Frisk.” Aofil’s shoulder sinks, but not because of the rather drained state of them, but because they know they’re about to get into an even bigger argument. “Didn’t we already have this talk?” They must’ve before. “With you as a human the monsters can love you even more than they can themselves. They did so with Chara, so of course they can you too. Even more so, dare I say it. Don’t think of it that way, Frisk.” Aofil pushes their opened hand against their chest. “I’m more confused about what it means to love with how I am than I ever could be.”

Frisk looks to the side while grimacing.

“You don’t have to tell me that it’s obvious,” Aofil continues. “Because it really is. Everyone in the Lab swims through my doubts with Muffet, and her too! You deserve to have a soul like mine more than I do, but you don’t want it, I promise. You...” Aofil swipes a hand over their eyes. They’re feeling it all echo inside them, and their tail comes up to embrace them as best it can. “You get confused. You wake up with fur on your arm, and you wonder what it means. Everyone tells you it doesn’t really mean anything, and it really doesn’t to you since a monster sliver could never hold a candle to a human’s soul, but still, you’re always aware that you have something uncommon with everyone. Your human friends can all throw their eyes open in surprise and compliment how soft the fur is, and your monster friends can give you tips which shampoo to use to get it that soft, but in the end you’re alone in this. If it is as it is that your soul is what conduits your emotions, then what happens when it’s changed? When suddenly you have magic when you’re not supposed to. When a monster wants to give her soul to you, but you can’t in response. If you flat out couldn’t then fine, that’s that, but if there’s a potential for you to, then you’ll just think that you’re not good enough and...”

Aofil falls down onto the table with their head in their hands as they try to catch their breath.

“It’s not what it’s made out to be,” they finally manage to punctuate in between their deep inhales. “Don’t chase this, Frisk.”

“You haven’t done anything to learn anything about it though,” Frisk shoots back with their head still turned away. “And you’re sitting here saying that my family can love me more than they could themselves, yet you’re talking about how you’re not sure that you can love Muffet enough, while also in the same breath saying that a sliver of a monster soul doesn’t do anything really except give you some fur on your arm.”

“It’s...”

“Confusing,” Frisk finishes with a fist clenching at their chest. “I. Know. Aofil. You might have that lonesome connection to the monsters, but so do I in my own way. Name another human that’s been as ingrained with monsters as me. I’m not trying to brag, I just want to get your head out of the gutter, because I need it.”

Aofil looks up underneath their raised eyebrows at Frisk leaning forward bitterly. They sigh. The only human in the world that understands this better than Aofil is calling them out. Guess they don’t have any other choice but to listen. “Alright, what is it you want?”

Frisk thanks with a quick yet rigid nod. “Your monster part coming from Asriel, you’ve kept it quiet because of him, right?”

“He asked me to.”

“And now he’s told almost everyone, so that doesn’t apply any longer. So don’t spare any more thoughts about him now, he’s over it. He’s accepted that he can’t do a lot of magic, and we’re all gonna be there for him. However, you, Aofil.”

Me, Aofil.

“You have an entire human soul at your disposal for magical energy. You can still get a pretty good stream of water through a needle’s eye if you push an entire waterfall through it. Hell, you and Asriel helped MK make his awesome armor! You and Asriel did magic! If you could just learn how do it consciously then...” Frisk snaps a finger against Aofil’s tail. “Then you could perhaps conjure your own tail to use!”

W...what? Aofil turns around, but they barely have to. Their tail comes up to meet their widened eyes and surprised breathing. They didn’t even think about it moving… “Magic?” they repeat to try and help themselves get it to sink in. “But, no? Asriel can barely do any himself, and I only have a sliver of monster, as we’ve established. It’s more like a filter so thin that water can’t even pass through it, isn’t it?”

“Your dad did some magic onto you, didn’t he? Even without a monster part inside of him.”

“That was just Chara,” Aofil replies with their teeth beginning to grit. They don’t want to think about how much their twin embellished their story. How much they leaned too much on the magical to convince Aofil to the monsters side. “I just told what Chara did to me back then. Or my imagination of Chara, or whatever it was when I fell down. It was the only explanation I had. The more I’ve thought about it though, the less and less their story feels true. I don’t think my dad knew magic. He saved me, and my soul, yes, but it wasn’t with magic. Parents have lifted entire cars to save their child stuck underneath, so pushing back a soul isn’t that big a stretch.”

Even if it really is.

“That’s still magic though, Aofil,” Frisk counters with a stern motion of their hand. They’re the teacher now, and Aofil’s the unwilling student. “Your soul is magic. Humans are part magic, and we’re both more magic than just part magic. You should have a way for you to learn how to use it with how your soul is. Maybe that is the only way for a human to know about magic? Isn’t it at least worth taking a shot at?” Frisk runs their tongue over their drying lips faster than anything Aofil’s seen before. “It would help you understand how to love Muffet better too if that’s your worry.” They throw their arms wide, with their hectic grin even wider across their thinned lips. “Your own magical tail to hug your monster soul mate properly like you want!”

Frisk is even more out of breath than what Aofil is about this. They’re sounding quite desperate about it too, which is a bit worrisome. Could instead be what Asriel meant by Frisk being more worthy though. If anything Frisk is determined, and few things can put up a barrier against that mindset of theirs. It sounds like they’ve actually done some research on this too. Probably pestered Alphys about it. Hopefully not too much. Frisk would know Alphys’ boundaries though, but if they’re trying to push beyond their own…

“I have a birthday wish from you, Aofil.” Frisk puts their hand on their chest, clasping it hard. Aofil’s eyes open up and their breath mellows out through a sharp inhale through their nose. “I’m sorry that I’m not giving you a lot of time to consider it, but truth be told, I only found out about it recently.”

Aofil leans forward to stop them. “Frisk don’t,” they beg, but Frisk only turns around so that their action is protected by their striped back. Aofil can’t reach around it.

“Please...” Frisk pleads while shaking their head weakly. “It hurts enough doing it. I want to. I need to show you.”

“S-show me what?”

Wait…

‘We’re both more magic than just part magic.’

No…

“Chara has embraced their monster side.”

The pink cavern drowns in a rugged crimson. A pained gasp echoes between the many tables and crevices. Frisk’s entire being flinches before slumping over. They breathe in deeply, and force their back straight up again.

Aofil...can’t believe it.

“Why? How?”

“Can you embrace yours so that I can learn to embrace mine too?”

With a shaky arm, Frisk presents their red soul.

And the white, twisted core inside of it.

Aofil swallows as their tail cowers behind them. “Is that...” Their stomach turns as questions fill their head faster than they can keep up. C-Chara? Without color? Without being red?

“It is Chara. What they left behind,” Frisk answers as they breathe painfully. “They’ve made their choice to become this for me.”

No. “How?” Aofil’s startled voice crashes against the walls, transforming their scared shout into a panicked howl. “How did they? Why did they?”

Frisk’s arm turns weak, and they stumble forwards as their soul lunges back inside of them. Shadows consume their limp expression as their long fringe hangs over their bent head like a willow.

They begin weeping just like one.

Aofil eases the sobbing human into a nearby chair. Their tail grabs one for themselves, and they sit down on it without as much as a thought. They realize it a second after. “Intention,” they whisper before shaking it off. That’s for later.

A couple of more stabilizing breaths flow through the decorated spider cafe before Frisk slowly brushes their fringe away from their face. “The crystal you gave to Chara,” they force out of them between coughs.

The one they asked for so that they could see and feel like themselves.

Feel…

“I think I understand,” Aofil says.

“They and Asriel were once one, and with you imprinting yourself on the crystal, and also Asriel by proxy, Chara could give up the last of their humanity. When they died they weren’t a human, or a monster. They were fused with Asriel, and that’s how they latched onto me. Another receptor that was similar enough to theirs. A virus, but I don’t like calling them that.”

Aofil won’t say anything to that.

“They’re gone now, but they left behind the monster that they were when fused. They said their goodbye to you, the only human they cared about, and then...” Frisk finally collapses once they’ve finished explaining. “Gone for good.” They clutch at their chest, but more so in an embrace rather than a grip.

“Guess that explains why you felt like you had influenza, and why you were so cranky after you woke up in Waterfall. Didn’t have the same emotions after Chara...made their choice?”

They scoff a few tears.

“You’re gonna miss them.”

Frisk nods. “I will.”

Aofil reaches over with their arm to comfort Frisk, but they halt it midway. They angle their forearm upwards, and glance down to Frisk’s arms covered by their sweater. Not now though, later. Right now Aofil needs to be an adult to this young one. They hug Frisk’s shoulders, and the kid leans their heads on Aofil’s as they sob it out. An adult in number only, to Aofil Frisk is still a child. “It was Chara’s choice,” they remind as they pat the striped shoulder. “I’m sure they were happy that they could make it, and more so that they did it for you, Frisk.”

A sharp sniffle is all they get as an answer, but it is enough. 

“They’ll still protect you though, Frisk.” Aofil nods to try and convince themselves of their own words. To their surprise, it’s quite effective. “But don’t take it as a cue to seek out situations where you’ll need their protection. Although, to be honest, it’s more that those situations find you rather than the opposite.”

“Don’t tell dad what he did.”

“Of course not.”

There’s something nibbling at the back of Aofil’s head though. More chomping away rather than nibbling, actually. They lower their head in shame as they can’t seem to shake it off. 

“Are you sure they’re gone...for good?” The last words trail out of Aofil’s mouth like drops out of an almost-closed tap. “You’ve said that you couldn’t feel them before.”

Frisk clutches their hands at their jeans. “This is different.”

Of course it’s different. It’s always different, but will it stay different?

“I feel like I have less emotion inside of me. It feels a bit...grayer. Again, like I’m sick or tired. In a way I hope it stays like this so that I don’t forget about Chara.”

“It’s your life Chara’s been hanging onto, Frisk,” Aofil again reminds. They have to, it’s the adult thing to do. “They said so to me, and if they’d had the chance they’d said so to you as well. I think they’re fine with fading away now. It hurt them when they were in control of you, yet at the same time they felt like they had to be there for you. See this as them accepting that you’ve grown up, and that you’ve come further than what they did. It was only fair that they decided to leave you in the Underground. It’s where their own life was, after all.”

The cry exploding from Frisk is filled with sorrow. The tears flying of their shaking head crash against the hard rock around them. Their grip on Aofil’s clothes is just as rigid.

“It hurts without them!”

“A years old plaster has been ripped off you, Frisk,” Aofil reminds for a third time. “It’ll fade away with time.”

“I...

“Chara knew you more than anyone else, and if they thought it was time for you to live your own life without them, then they did so knowing you’d want that too.”

“I didn’t want them gone!”

“But they wanted themselves gone.” Aofil lifts up Frisk’s face to theirs, to the one Chara would wear. They can speak as if it was Chara now, and that’s what Frisk needs. “Because you were Chara’s world to them, Frisk. They loved you in a way not even the two of us as twins could. They made their decision though. Chara didn’t leave you, they set you free. That’s how they’d wanted you to see it. You can stay determined even without them, that Chara knew.”

The lips on the yellow face again quiver, and the darkened trails of the tears bend as their cheeks tense. Frisk buries their head into Aofil’s chest, and cough one last, violent sob.

Aofil puts their hand on top of Frisk’s head as they breathe out. Fluffbun, that was intensive. There aren’t enough anime series in the world to binge that will significantly lower the amount adult points they just earned. The closest thing to a human parent, that’s what they say Aofil is to Frisk, and here’s the proof.

Aofil’s not ready for kids though. Not if this is gonna be a daily thing. Or a weekly. Or monthly. Or yearly.

“Singe my damn soul...” they sigh into the air.

And to imagine that Aofil felt it was difficult being inside a string cocoon just a few minutes ago.

Frisk seems to be calming down though, and…

Hold on, what are these bumps on Frisk’s head?

Frisk drags a harsh gasp, and they push away from Aofil to sit up on their own. With their sweater’s arms they dry off their eyes. “You’re right,” they say through a rugged sigh. “I’ll remember Chara by living as they wanted me to. It’s what they deserve.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Also.” They bite down while rolling up their sleeves. Their arms are just as yellow as their face though. No fur or anything. Frisk directs Aofil’s attention up to their head. They lightly tap inside their hair. “Here.”

Aofil runs a timid finger where Frisk’s pointing. They don’t feel anything to begin with, but as they continue exploring they-

“Ow!” Frisk recoils back in pain, leaving Aofil’s hand hovering in disbelief.

“Hor...” They try to swallow away their confusion, but they merely only swallow away their acceptance. They know the same pain. They felt it before, albeit more explosive and instant. Still, Frisk now has…

Nope, still can’t say it.

“Do they hurt?” Aofil manages to say despite knowing fully well that they do.

“I’m gonna have to ask Asriel how he dealt with it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Frisk replies as they gently tap at their head to explore how it feels. “But yeah, I felt them when I pretended to scratch my head at a puzzle at the CORE. Pain hit me like a truck and I, well, puked from it. It’s calmed down a bit though, but it’s still sore.”

At least Aofil was in the right that the pain was in the category of growth spurts. Doesn’t seem to be fast enough for the horns to just pop out of Frisk’s skull and left hanging by magic though.

That’d be silly.

Still, Aofil’s a bit worried about if and how much Frisk’s horns are gonna pierce out through their skin. Aofil was lucky in comparison with just some fur now that they can compare to Frisk. Gonna be some splitting headaches for them.

Quite literally.

“You should tell your parents as soon as possible,” Aofil suggests while running their hand over their chin. “Have some gauze at your nightstand to contain the bleeding. It’s-” It’s… No. No. It’s too much. Aofil just...stops. They need to lean back in their chair and let their mind come to terms with giving medical advice to a human about to grow horns out of their skull. Perhaps if they changed the subject a bit to help them ease into it? “Who do you think your horns are gonna resemble the most?”

Their tongue flops out of their mouth as it’s clearly not needed anymore now that Aofil’s said something that’s never been said, or will never be said again. They slurp it back in though just in case they have to talk again in the distant future.

Frisk’s rapid and confused blinking distracts them from their headache. “I...I think Asriel, but perhaps like how he had when he was smaller? I’m judging it by you only having fur on your arm.”

That’s a fair assessment...or something? Not really a lot of samples to extract it from. Aofil nods. “I see.”

Well, not now, but soon? 

“How long did it take your fur to fully grow?” Frisk asks timidly with a finger pointing against Aofil’s growth. “I’m a bit nervous. It’s already hurting.”

That’s understandable. “Took me a week or so.” Aofil looks down at their arm. “Maybe ask Toriel for some medicine? Some effervescent tablets, perhaps? I don’t know if that’ll help though.” They slap their fur back and forth. “It didn’t really hurt me, but yours are, so I can’t help you there, I’m afraid. I think you should see a doctor. Make sure the horns grow out cleanly and septic.”

Frisk nods, albeit carefully now that their head is sore. “Thanks. I’ll talk to mom and dad about it.”

“What are you gonna tell them?” Aofil folds their arms without thinking, but they feel that it’s necessary now. Their tail begins tapping behind them. How to explain this to Toriel and Asgore without mentioning Chara?

A slobbery glob lands on Aofil’s shoulder, but they brush it off. “Not now, Muffin,” they chastise without looking back. They didn’t even know Muffet brought him with her, but he’s arrived at the worst time now. Although, when did Muffin become tall enough to breathe on top of Aofil’s head?

Another glob lands in their head, and flops down before their eyes, and landing with a splat on the floor between their feet. Viscous strings of white and black curl in and around each other, moving as if oil and water, yet still stuck together as if magnetically bound.

Like a door slowly opened by an ant, Aofil angles their head up to Frisk with eyes unblinking. “That’s not Muffin.”

Frisk shakes their head.

“It’s an Amalgamate.”

Frisk nods.

“The dog one?”

“Endogeny, yes.”

“And why is it here?”

It’s a good thing Aofil slurped back their tongue, because there’s really not anything else they’d want now that for Frisk to explain why an Amalgamate is here.

Does explain why it took Frisk so long to reach here though.

“I really couldn’t figure out another way to explain to mom and dad about my soul without mentioning Chara.”

Oh Frisk is quite rude putting Aofil in this dilemma right now.

“It won’t hurt.”

Aofil does not like that Frisk is opening up their explanation with that.

Not.

One.

Bit!

They cross their arms harder to prevent them from doing something.

“The story will be that Endogeny came to congratulate me on my birthday, but it did so a bit too intensively.”

A large shadow begins growing above Aofil. They do the mistake of looking up, and they get a large white tongue licking their face from a black void. A small white tail materializes, waving excitingly. 

“I so much wish I could handle the fine to breaking the rule not to scream,” Aofil says with difficulty through their pushed-together lips.

“And by that I mean that it also embraced you a bit too much as well,” Frisk continues as the amalgamate begins curling itself over them too. “Our souls began resonating with each other, and I got a monster part added to my soul.”

“Added?” 

Endogeny is now enveloping the two humans completely.

“It’s important that we say that it was added.” Frisk lifts up their hand to pet a black dog’s head forming over their shoulder. “I can spin it as something positive then.”

“Another birthday present?”

“Yeah.”

A white dog’s head pops underneath Aofil’s arm, and they give it a scratch behind its ear. They’ve dealt with amalgamates before during some parent-teacher meetings, so it’s not that they’re uncomfortable.

This though? Being swallowed by one?

That’s uncomfortable.

“Please?”

The white dog head retreats as Aofil looks over to Frisk. “Just enough to stain our clothes?”

“Yes.” Frisk raises a hand that they grab into Endogeny with. “Ready?”

No.

“Just do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some other authors have reported that chapter updates aren't sent out and that comments aren't coming through either, even on their chapters. 
> 
> Now if the first is the case then I'm screaming into the void, but if the second is true, then I do apologize if I haven't gotten back to any of you. 
> 
> Again, I'm very frequent on the Fanfic Paradise Discord server I have linked at the end, so if the problem persists I can be found there for some discussion.


	48. Between a black and a white dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earlier chapter this week due to some university stuff

“Frisk?”

Aofil didn’t even use their mouth to ask into the blackened void around them. This warm gelatinous environment that’s almost massaging them doesn’t allow them to open their mouth without risking to swallow something they’d rather not. They find no difficulty breathing though, nor any trouble to project their voice as far as they can hear it. In fact, they’re now hearing their question from behind them. Have they moved? No, they’ve been standing still. Perhaps everything around them moved instead? It’s difficult to tell. The magical fur around Aofil manifests more as a thought rather than anything to be touched at, yet it’s still enough to make their nose itch. However, sneeze they cannot, since there wasn’t anything to make them sneeze in the first place.

Oh boy, it’s gonna be like that, isn’t it? A perpetual itch that can’t be scratched, because there is none to be scratched, yet the concept is still there. Only the inverse is real, and with nothing for it to be the inverse of. The white strands and shapes of dogs pulsating around Aofil are only the negative of black, and not white itself. Vice versa for the black shadows whirling inside while still outside the white dogs. Forming and collapsing as if the colors were synonymous. It’s not true, it’s just the negative of false. Aofil’s nose isn’t itching, it’s just not being not itching. 

Yet they still want to sneeze so badly!

Aaaargh! It feels so stuffed and swollen!

The wavy surrounding doesn’t seem to be collapsing anytime soon though, which is a good thing. Or maybe not, Aofil’s not sure. Either way, they should find Frisk as soon as possible. Get out of here before Aofil becomes calm enough to become curious about this strange world. They’ve already been absorbed into it, no need to be absorbed while inside it too.

“Frisk!” Aofil calls out again by screaming not inwards. “I feel that we’ve done enough now. How do we get out?”

A large dog pushes its affectionate head underneath Aofil’s arm while bumping against their other side. Instinctively, Aofil reaches down to pet it, and it circles its hollow head around so that Aofil can scratch at its chin. Its exciting tongue extends and licks their arm, but the drooling sensation happens on the patch of fur on Aofil’s other arm. The uncomfortable inconsistency has them shuddering, and the dog licks again to help comfort. 

The friction from the tongue on one arm, and the drool slobbering on their other.

Could it not, please?

No wonder Alphys wanted to grow hair on her head so that she could tear it out when she began her quantum mechanics course. This here seems to be the magical equivalent of it. Granted, Aofil is just as unfamiliar with quantum mechanics as they are with what they’ve found themselves inside now, but that just adds credence to their comparison, if anything.

...Oh!

So that’s why Alphys was so interested in the subject! She’s studying to find a human solution to the monster problem! Oh man, Aofil had never thought about it like that before. Perhaps she can finally wash away this last sin from her scientific record and move forward with her research. Maybe if Aofil tells her about this then she’ll feel comfortable enough to teach them magic.

...Or something…

Ahem.

Wow, what Frisk said before really stuck with Aofil, didn’t it? Growing a magical tail doesn’t sound so bad, but perhaps that could just be Aofil’s confusion talking. Quite a lot of that going on inside Endogeny right now.

“Maybe. Or maybe not?”

Aofil hushes their confusion talking beside them. “I didn’t mean it literally,” they explain to the void perception of themselves standing in half a shrug. “That I’m absolutely sure of.”

The perception fades away, replaced almost immediately by the morphing faces of a canine coming up to Aofil to beg for scratches.

“Do you know where Frisk is?” they ask to the dog who sprouts another head that bumps its muzzle jealously at Aofil’s free hand. Black in one hand, and white in the other, but both acting as colorful as the other when scratched behind the slimy, yet still furry, ears. Their combined panting echoes against the nothing around. “If you find them, could you bring them here?”

The heads don’t disappear, since they never existed to begin with.

Aofil groans as they shake their heavy head. It’s getting a bit tiresome with this, to be honest. Amalgamates from the outside are fine when acting with. Aofil’s found that treating them like just another monster works for the best. Especially when said monster is attending for its child at the parent-teacher meetings. Snowdrake’s mom is Snowdrake’s mom, for an example. That’s how it piqued with some sense of emotion when called, so that’s what it is now. Better for the family too.

All of this...probability, going around Aofil is not really noticeable when they’re not swallowed whole by it. They just file it under magic stuff happening and continue on with the parent-teacher meeting and Snowdrake’s rather odd habit of answering every question as a snow pun. Just gotta use the same plastic cover around and on their desk as when the slime or moldsmal parents come in, and continue on from there.

Less attempt at impersonation from the amalgamates in comparison to the slimes and moldsmals too, or imparentation, in this case.

Aofil throws the contour of a black bone with whirling white fibers within for an excited white contoured dog with black fibrous fur popping out of the amalgamate field to fetch. When or how the bone appeared in their hand they don’t know, but it’s out of their hand now, so they think no more about it. The bone lands with a bounce that’s almost digital. Not a smooth arc, but rather a step-by-step movement, as if jumping from one moment in time to another without being continuous in between. The dog catches it in its own continuous time though, but when it interacts with the bone, its mouth takes on the property of the bone’s movement while the rest of its body continues continuous like before.

It’s a good thing Aofil’s familiar with Temmies otherwise they’d scream in terror for no one to hear, not even themselves. They still feel a bit of a headache coming along as their brain tries to process and deduce some logical explanation to it. Unfortunately, Aofil doesn’t have three empty blackboards and a handful of years studying quantum mechanics under their non-existent belt, so their one gear just churns on the clutch inside their skull.

While breathing deep in through their nose, and getting a lot more air than they imagined they’d get, Aofil runs their fingers against their temples. It’s like spinning a bunch of nails on their head though, and it does more hurt than good. Silver lining though, ignoring the gray ones momentarily created in the amalgamate field when two playful dogs slam into each other, is that Aofil’s own body seems to be acting normally. For whatever soul and magic thing happening right now, at least Aofil has their own self cemented. A single safe harbor of normal logic inside a vicious storm sweeping large waves of probability against the unprepared supports. Despite everything, Aofil is still real, to their enormous joy.

There’s a strange feeling when they cross their arms though, so perhaps their clothes didn’t receive the same treatment. It’s magical clothing, after all, so it’s not a surprise that it’s affected by the amalgamate. Maybe they’ll spot a floating imploding dog trying to wrestle its head into the sleeve if they’re lucky. It is a bit of an inconvenience though, especially since their itch seems to be spreading all over Aofil’s body. Like when they tested out a new shampoo on their patch of fur, but spread out all over! Aofil itches back with their finger, but it’s to no avail. They run their arm over their nose as they huff.

Oh. Oh. Oh!

There it is! There it is!

Yes!

There’s the sneeze coming along and...

“Atchoo!”

Oh, bless.

“Bless you.”

Aofil nods with gratitude. “Than-”

No. 

“Before you go about now.”

No no no no no no no.

“Please calm down and breathe out.”

Aofil refuses.

“I’m just a memory.”

Nope. “Nope.”

“I’m not real.”

That goes without explanation, because Aofil don’t want to hear none. So... “Still nope.”

“I’m just Frisk’s soul resonating with Endogeny.”

Well ain’t that absolutely fantastic. But… “Still, yet stiller.”

Chara pushes both their hands against their face. “Can I-”

“You’re gone.”

“Yes, I am,” Chara answers with a vexed sigh as they push their fingers hard against the sides of their head. “But again, like I just said,” they angrily sing. “I’m. Not. Me.”

So why are you so damn upset about it then? And also, no, actually. Chara’s not them. 

…

Why aren’t they? 

Aofil shoots over two fingers towards Chara, because one isn’t enough for this situation. “And why are you a Boss Monster?”

With an almost condescending nod, Chara directs Aofil’s attention over to their fingers. “Ask that to yourself to begin with.”

It takes less than a second for it to connect with Aofil. They don’t even have to shift their eyes over to their furred fingers. They wouldn’t even see them even if they tried.

Due to the large, pale Boss Monster muzzle wrinkled in slight disgust covering the lower half of their vision.

“Oh for...” they sigh out. Halfway through it turns into an exasperated bleat, which only drags it out even more tiredly. A small school of curious dog heads peek up between Aofil’s large paws, but they quickly disappear after Aofil sends them a shadowy look from beneath their hardened brow. “I shouldn’t really be surprised, all things considered, because apparently all of the things are considered here.” They throw up their arms. “How come its always gonna be a Boss Monster? Why can’t I be some other type? Yes I know Asriel’s one and he’s my catalyst and all that, but you know...”

“...Do you want to be another kind of monster?”

“You know fully well that’s not what I mean, who or whatever you are.” Aofil’s wrists slam against their horns as they let them fall bitterly, causing their neck to snap back and their face to point upwards. They blow their lips as they slowly tilt their neck forward again. “I’m just tired about being covered in fur and having this large muzzle in the way, that’s all. Dressing up I’m fine with, because then I know I can take it off easily.”

“So what do you want?” Chara pries. “Scales like Undyne? Bones like Papyrus? Spikes like MK? Mix and match perhaps?”

“Am I allowed as a human to feel uncomfortable about being turned into a monster behind my back?” The rather snobby tone from Chara was completely unnecessary. Aofil’s been a Boss Monster often enough to be sick of it. Enough stamps on their ‘Transformed Against Their Will’ card to get out of one free. “Please?”

“Yes.” Chara nods as a sign of goodwill. “Well you know why you’re like this,” they relay while twirling a floppy, light-beige ear hanging down their cheek. “So that’s a start. It should also give you a pretty good clue as to what I am.”

“Besides a manifestation of what Frisk cried on my shoulder about just a few minutes ago,” Aofil answers without even thinking. “Or however time works in here.” They straighten their back, and as they do, they gain a striped sweater on their torso woven through glimmering magic. They pluck at its collar like they would a stain with the claws on their fingers and with the same annoyed expression stretching their face into a thin and neutral smile. “Yellow and purple?” Their collar returns to their neck with a soft flop as they flick open their grip from it. “Well at least I’m visible against this monochrome environment.”

Their pants are a more reserved pair of jeans with the bottoms folded up once. Why the extra energy having been spent on fashion, Aofil has no clue about.

“You’re saying it like it’s my fault.” Chara crosses their arms as they lean an elbow against the blackened void. A gradient of white spreads out from the pressure, fading in intensity outwards. “But anyways, here I am. Or, more specifically,” they correct with a dynamically raised finger that they bend down to the unamused Boss Monster standing opposite them,” here you are.”

“Where’s the exit, please?”

Maybe Aofil will be lucky?

“There is no exit.”

Of course there isn’t.

“Well, none that you or Frisk know of.”

Fluffbun with all these damn riddles and convoluted manner of speech and not being just straight to the point when Aofil’s inside a damn amalgamate talking to Chara while the two are Boss Monsters so why can’t they just get a clear answer for once they’ve earned that much at least if not at the very least for everyone to hear except they can’t be heard since again they’re inside Endogeny and again they’d really like to get out of Endogeny and to do that they need to know where and how the exit works!

Please!

Aofil’s eyes shoot glaring swords over their beige muzzle towards Chara, who puts up their hands in defense. “The closest explanation is that your and Frisk’s soul are resonating with Endogeny. Through your monster part, yadda yadda, you know how it is.” 

“So am I speaking to Frisk’s soul now?” Aofil pries further with an inquisitive gesture.

“Yes, you’re speaking with Frisk.”

“So am I speaking to Frisk’s soul now?” Aofil pries even further with a further inquisitive gesture. “Would you be so kind as to help me make the distinction so when I eventually meet Frisk again there won’t be any confusion as to whom I’m speaking to?”

“Yes,” Chara reluctantly answers. “Golly, you’re no fun.”

“I. Am. Inside. An. Amalgamate!” Aofil reminds while slamming their fist into their opened palm with each syllable. It’s not as impactful as they wanted it to be due to the soft fur absorbing the impact, but it will have to do.

“Alright, alright.”

“Thank you.” Aofil throws their hand up in the air in celebration, their fingers exploding like stars from a firework. “And that’s why you’re a Boss Monster because Frisk really wants to be one, and I’m a Boss Monster, because really deep down I’m actually one?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“No. I meant it as an actual answer.”

“Well then let us wait for the answer,” Chara suggests as they idly scan around for a couple of seconds to see if anything might change about Aofil. While the surrounding instantaneous dogs come and go with varying sizes and state of ecstatic, the two humans remain Boss Monsters. A single safe harbor in the most violent of storms, and with Aofil complaining about the rain on it. “Can’t lie yourself out of this one.”

“Pretty sure Frisk’s soul is fully capable of lying too,” Aofil counters with their brow tucked down in increasing annoyance. “Since it is them, as their soul claims very loud and clear which is very strange and uncomfortable.”

Still no change happening while Chara sharpens their claws together while whistling.

“And shouldn’t I of all people, or souls, know who I’m really desiring. Resonate all you want, Frisk’s soul, but I know what I want.”

A gentle wave of fingers wash up on Aofil’s shoulder. And their other. And around their stomach. And around their waist. “Of course you do,” Muffet’s voice whispers underneath their ear before running her cheek down Aofil’s furred neck. Their ear hooks into one of her pig-tails for a moment before falling off and slapping against their cheek. “Fuhuhuhuhu~” she giggles while burrowing her head deeper into their shoulder and neck. “It tickles.”

Even through their sweater they can feel that Muffet isn’t wearing anything. Rather apt name for Aofil’s apparel considering what begins to thickly form on their forehead.

“Could you focus, please?” Chara asks with their ears folded over their eyes. Their eyebrows pop out from underneath with pleading speed. “You’re doing this for Frisk, remember?”

Muffet bids her painfully short visit farewell with a kiss on Aofil’s cheek. “I’ll see you on the outside then, human.”

No, don’t…

Already gone. Not a trace of her.

“Dammit,” Aofil curses through their lips clenched in discontent. They shake their head at the restless whirls of black and white behind them, and reluctantly turn their head back to Chara, who releases their ears as if playing peek-a-boo.

“I have a bit of a proposition.”

“You or Frisk?”

“Yes.”

Dammit.

“See it as a bit of an extension to Frisk’s birthday wish,” Chara begins proposing while spooling up their arms to help explain. “As you may be aware of, and as your soul is aware of, because it was actually the one bringing it up in the first place and-”

“Stop.” Aofil’s putting their foot down. It’s very slimy and it feels like they’ve missed the top step of a staircase, but they’re still doing it. “My soul?”

“Yes,” Chara answers with a nod. “Your soul. See, I’m helping you with the distinction.”

That actually brings up a very good question. “So if my soul is...somewhere. It’s...not here...where I am.”

“It’s with Frisk,” Chara informs. 

Good, then it’s in good care.

“So if my soul is with Frisk, and Frisk’s soul is with me, then what are Frisk and I?”

“Your souls.”

It’s just so draining. Like opening a bottle of soda only to realize that the bottom’s fallen out, and Aofil really wanted that soda.

“If Frisk would’ve known what the hell is going on then I would’ve known, and if you would’ve known what the hell is going on then Asriel would’ve known and-”

Hold up!

“Asriel?”

“It’s not...”

“No,” Aofil agrees after giving it a second’s thought. “No, it’s not really that surprising.”

“So, continuing on.”

“No,” Aofil interrupts again with their palm pushed forward. “Just one more thing.” They let the clenched rolling of Chara’s eyes brush past them, because they have to get a satisfactory answer out of this. “Where are our bodies?” And more importantly. “How are our bodies?”

“Your bodies...”

“Don’t you dare trail off!” Aofil spits harshly. They can feel their hastily furrowed brow tug at the base of their horns. “I’m not being coy about this, alright? Answer me.”

“Your bodies are safe,” Chara says while timidly lifting up their palms. “It’s a bit difficult explaining it, so if I could just have a few seconds, please,” they ask rather calmly.

“Yes.” Aofil offers an apology with their hand. “Sorry, but you understand why I’m a bit worried, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be here, nor would Asriel...your soul…” Chara corrects with some quick nods, “have managed to find Frisk. Frisk and you are alive, both your souls and bodies, but Endogeny has kinda separated the two of you. Not physically,” Chara’s quick to add. “Think of it more as the two of you sharing a dream together?”

The uncertainty spilling out of Chara’s muzzle is more unclear than Endogeny itself.

“Again, I can only say what Frisk knows, like how Asriel can only say what you know.”

“So we’re still in Endogeny. Our bodies, that is.” Aofil looks around again, this time trying to discern any, if all, shapes that might resemble a human. It’s quite hard to look past the myriad of canine faces eagerly hoping that Aofil’s observing their environment to find the best head to pat. Like a swelling tide, the many smiling black faces and outstretched white tongues follow Aofil’s head movement. “And if, let’s say, Muffet, were to pull the two of us out we’d still be fine? No need to do those safe removal routines you had to do with the old computers?”

“You’d probably forget what happened in here,” Chara hazards after some thinking with their claws tapping on their elongated chin. “Since me and Asriel would be pretty much awakened in the middle of the night with the kitchen on fire, so to speak.”

“And the two of you know where the fire extinguishers are located, right?” Aofil appends while leaning forward.

“We both keep them next to the bed since it is a bit of too common an occurrence.” The last words flow out of Chara’s mouth riddled with poison and spite. Aofil can’t really refute that, since one time was one time too much, and even with the added knuckles afforded to them by their claws, Aofil doesn’t have enough fingers to count the amount of times Frisk and them have poured water on their souls’ grease fires.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Aofil extends with a gentle bow of their head. They almost bite at their ears flopping down the length of their bent-down muzzle. “Sorry for us being quite noisy vessels for the two of you to inhabit.”

“Just make sure to say that to your own soul too.” Chara lights up and snaps their fingers. “Actually, why don’t we go meet Frisk and your soul right now? You’re up for the proposition, right?”

Not really? Aofil didn’t agree to anything. Did Chara even get to that point, or were they interrupted by Aofil too much? “What was it again?”

Chara motions for the wooden door that wasn’t there a moment ago as if it was always there. “At this point it’s probably better if I explain it on location.”

Location? “What location?”

Chara waves their arm around in a dramatic circle only for their hand to return to pointing at the door. They shoot over a thinned smile and raised pair of eyebrows, hoping Aofil gets the point without any further words to be spoken.

Yes, yes, Aofil gets the point alright. They pet a whining dog’s head underneath their arm. “I’ll give you a treat once I’m outside,” they promise with a final scratch behind the unstable ear shifting from white to black at Aofil’s touch. It slurps back into the field with a ghastly moan.

“Just make sure to remember that promise even if you’re unsafely removed from Endogeny.”

“Why that’s up to you now, isn’t it?” Aofil counters as they turn the rounded handle on the door.

“I guess so,” Chara acknowledges as they follow Aofil inside the door.


	49. Siblings at soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Many thanks to the wonderful BlackRazorBill for reprising their old fanart for this chapter!](http://blackrazorbill.tumblr.com/)

“Have I been here before?”

Aofil and Chara walking along together inside a shapeless void from something neither could explain fully towards a place that’s somewhere far in the infinite darkness stretching before, below, above, and behind them both.

Oh yeah!

Wow… Coming full circle now, isn’t it? Out of the near-death experience into the amalgamate.

Aofil knows they shouldn’t indulge that memory, but there is some sibling emotions starting to bubble inside them now as it begins resurfacing. Could be their Asriel part, actually, if they’re looking for an excuse to explain away the feeling.

It is just Frisk’s soul in the shape of Chara, but so was Chara only Aofil’s soul back then, yet it feels just the same to Aofil. Even with the two being Boss Monsters now. The old Chara would be ecstatic with being able to grip their long ears, but perhaps this current one got that out of their system before they came looking for Aofil. Perhaps then too it was Frisk’s soul back then, or perhaps it is Aofil’s soul now too. 

Perhaps, perhaps, indeed. 

Aofil looks down at Chara walking at their side with both hands tucked inside their brown jeans. How strange it is that they feel more connected now than they did talking to the actual Chara. Maybe it’s just as simple as it being Chara talking with Chara’s mouth rather than Frisk’s. Even if it is a Boss Monster’s shape to Chara’s mouth, it’s still theirs. Visuals do a lot to help, even if they’re rather fuzzy.

Literally.

And especially now with there not existing any other visuals at all for Aofil to rest their eyes on.

“If you’re wondering about my horns then no, Frisk’s are not gonna have the same shape,” Chara informs with a couple of taps with their claw against one of their head’s protrusions. “Might be closer to what you have now, but most likely they’re gonna look like Asriel’s, albeit more reserved.”

“So what I have are more my own flavor rather than Asriel’s?” Aofil flicks their own ones with a curious claw. They didn’t bother doing it before. It unfamiliar having a pair of levers on their head. Sharp ones too. 

Aofil wonders if that means anything. Toriel’s aren’t really that sharp, nor are Chara’s now. Asgore and Asriel has sharpened ends, but Asriel more so than his father.

They hum in thought.

“The color of your fur I’d thought would be enough of a hint to that,” snarks Chara with a slight scoff. “I know you have quite pale skin, but you’d have to lack any form of melanin to even get close to how snow-colored my family is.”

My family…

Aofil shakes that off. “So there are rules to this?” they pry further to move the subject along. “A chart, perhaps?”

“Not that I’ve heard of, no.” Chara rolls their ankle while grimacing a bit. “And I think you’d be happy to hear that this transformation hasn’t occurred enough for a chart to have been made.”

Chara’s got a point there. 

And apparently some hurt in their ankle too.

Aofil taps their shoulder as an invitation. “You wanna sit on my shoulders again?”

As if tugged on their collar, Chara stops mid-step. “Again?” they return quizzically with an upwards tilt of their head. They blow away some of their elongated fringe out of their eyes. “Have I done that before? When we were kids?”

“Not really,” answers Aofil while tapping their chest. “It was when I fell. You remember that? I mean, Frisk remembers that, right?” they correct.

“I remember having to put out two kitchen fires, yes.” Chara smacks their lips. “And that just after a reset too and having to fight Asriel again and...”

For being a soul Chara sure is human in their dramatic exhale. Aofil can’t help a slight giggle forming, but they cover it up with the back of their furry hand, being careful not to inhale any of it and coughing up a hair ball later.

“I can carry you on my shoulders as thanks for saving my bacon from being burnt. I know that Frisk enjoyed it when I gave them a ride back in the years. When I took them to that football practice, remember?”

“Not the fondest of memories, that football practice.” Chara reminisces for a couple of seconds before their muzzle begins wrinkling in slight hate and disgust. “And you did that only on the way back, and you only did that to get some free pie from mom.”

Well… “Yes, I did,” Aofil admits with a tilt to their head, although they don’t really see what’s wrong with it, “but they still enjoyed the ride. I think I was the first human to ever give them a ride like that.” Aofil squats down on one knee to get face to face with Chara. “Was I?”

“...Yes.” Chara blows their lips while scratching their furry cheek with one of their claws. “Yes, you were.” They let their gaze stretch as far as possible for a brief moment before giving up with a shrug. “And if you insist,” they say in a vague attempt to make it their own idea. “Don’t know how much longer we have to go, honestly. Might be a bit. You sure you can carry me? You’re not human any longer. Less strength and all that.”

“...And neither are you,” Aofil reminds. “And also, we’re inside an amalgamate,” they also remind. “Rules need not apply, not any of them.”

“Just...wanted to make sure.” Chara clears their throat a bit too loudly than they intended too. They look down with their muzzle hanging like a bib over the top yellow stripe of their sweater. “That’s all.”

No wonder Frisk is still a child at heart if they have this Chara as part of their soul. It’s been years since Aofil last saw a kid rock back and forth on their feet with their hands clamped behind their back. Hair, fur, and most importantly, ears, flowing rhythmically with each blushed swing of their goat-like body. 

“Come on,” Aofil offers with a hearty chuckle while leaning forward so that Chara can easier climb up, “hop on.” Their steps leave white and blurred circles in the black, texture-less ground as they round Aofil’s back, which fade away as if the steps are evaporating drops of water on a hot summer’s day in direct sunlight. Aofil looks behind them to make sure tha-

“Watch the horns!” Chara shouts with their neck craned backwards to dodge away from the sweeping, curved daggers turning on the back of Aofil’s skull. “Almost gouged an eye out! Jeez. You’re more clumsily with your horns than you are with your fork when mom serves snails.”

“Sorry,” Aofil offers as they look forward again. “I was just curious iiiiiiiifffff!” They flail their arms and shove their weight forward to compensate for Chara using their horns as leverage to hoist up on the furred shoulders which will act as their seat. They have weight to them, but they don’t feel heavy to Aofil. The pressure on the rising shoulders is there, but it doesn’t bother Aofil. Chara’s sweater chaffing against the inner side of Aofil’s horns is a bit bothersome though, as well as the jeans knees tucked underneath their long and floppy ears.

Quite different from before, that’s for a certain.

Aofil grips Chara’s shins and stands up carefully so that they keep their balance. “You sitting well?” they ask while angling their head up. 

“I’ll fall off if you keep doing that,” Chara replies while pushing down on Aofil’s head to keep their balance.

“Alright,” Aofil sings with renewed vigor. Their spirit has been lifted, they feel. Now… Um... “Which way?”

“That way.”

Aofil strains their eyelids and eyebrows in an attempt to push them further in so that they can see which yonder Chara’s pointing at over their head. They give their head a slight shake so that their outgrown fringe gives clearance, but Chara puts a stop to that before they’re stabbed in the chest by Aofil’s horns. “This way?” Aofil hazards then with an extended finger released from their grip around one of the jeans legs over their chest. 

“Other one,” Chara corrects with a slight kick of their other leg. “That way to Frisk and your soul.”

“How do you know?”

“I feel.”

“And I don’t?”

“That’s your problem.”

“I’m the one walking.”

“Not now since you’re standing still.”

How much would it hurt Frisk if their soul fell from the height of Aofil’s shoulder, they ponder for a bit.

But only for a bit.

For now.

“Are they also wandering?” Aofil wonders as they begin walking. Again they feel that there’s more pressure on the bottom of their beige paws against the ground below them caused by Chara. The blurred circles left behind are more robust. More filled in, and less faint. It’s still not enough to discern any form of texture from whatever it is they’re walking on though, but it should give them a good idea if they’re walking in a straight line. 

Neither is it possible to deduce what it is they’re walking towards, or even what they are walking away from. The door they used to enter this even stranger place than before vanished as soon as Chara closed it behind them. Out of the amalgamate into…

“Where are we?”

“Don’t know.”

Into whatever this is. Near-amalgamate experience?

Nothing above to call a roof. Nothing on the sides to call a wall. Nothing below to call a floor. The only light around is from the pressure of Aofil’s footsteps. Their paws make no sound, and they feel no real touch as they put their foot down. Pressure from their weight, yes, but nothing really that pushes back against the underside of their paw. No reaction to their action. Even if they consciously let a toe hang after in their step so that their claws scrape, there’s no sound or touch either. Punching their heel down does naught to help, nor does-

Chara leans their head over as far as they can over Aofil. “What are you doing?” Their fringe casts long and striped shadows on their face from the breathing light peeking from underneath, and the contours of the wrinkles on their confused muzzle gets lost in the dangling hair. It’s hard from Aofil’s locked angle to make out the shape of Chara’s muzzle in this subtle light. “If you want me to dismount then just say it instead of trying to shake me off.”

“Just trying to figure things out,” Aofil answers while they try to reach for a wall. They grab nothing, not even air. Yet they’re breathing completely fine. “Are we further into Endogeny, perhaps?”

“No dogs around,” concludes Chara after scanning around with their hand above their eyes to protect from a sun that isn’t there. “No determination dripping on your nice shoes.”

Aofil lifts up a leg straight before them.

“Paws then,” Chara sighs out tiredly. “Sorry, I guess. Didn’t you just say that you didn’t want to be a Boss Monster? Why so pedantic then?”

“Just felt like stretching.” Aofil lowers their leg again to resume walking.

“...Sure.”

“You’re right though about the dogs,” Aofil agrees before looking around them too. Chara is forced along with the ride as they’re pushed from side to side to avoid the sharp ends of Aofil’s horns as they turn their head. “None to be seen. We’re still inside Endogeny, right? This isn’t me and Frisk’s soul trying to find our bodies or something along those lines? We aren’t accidentally gonna get our souls mixed up?”

Dammit, now Aofil’s gone and made themselves worried again. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And it was so nice not having the doubt on their shoulders as well…

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Chara again leans over with a condescending wave to their hand. “I’m still here.” They sit up straight quickly afterwards before Aofil can shake them off. “So yeah, your bodies are still inside Endogeny. I’d felt it if Endogeny would’ve tried to force me out of Frisk, and you’d felt that too with your respective soul. It’s also not that a human can trade a soul with someone else like they do business cards. Don’t be silly, Aofil.” 

“As if you could handle Frisk’s soul,” Chara quickly adds under their breath.

“Not sure if I should answer ‘good’ to that,” Aofil says in a worried chuckle. They bite their lower lip as they drag in a long inhale that’s almost whistling between their fangs. “Seems to be a bit worse where we are right now. There’s not even an echo around to give me some sense of space.”

“There is no echo in space though.”

“You know what I mean,” Aofil returns with a tired frown. “With the dogs around and not around at the same time, there was at least something to complain about. Something that was different from me, and you. Lack of entropy, if you will. I’ve gotten used to that living in the real world, so walking around inside what appears to be complete entropy is unsettling to me.” They shake their head. “Also your jeans scraping against the inside of my ears is like running a scouring pad on my normal cheek.”

“That you’re still capable of feeling something that petty is a good sign.” Chara taps a claw against the top of Aofil’s skull, and they winch with each sharp tick. “Means you’re still quite aware of you. That your body is still safe.”

“Frisk’s too?”

Chara nods. “If you’re safe, then Frisk is safe. Not to be rude or anything,” Chara precedes while breathing in very guiltily through their teeth. “But Frisk has a bit of a higher priority, so to speak. Not even so to. Just speak. So if your body is safe, then Frisk’s surely is.”

Aofil’s mouth pouts out to the side in response to Chara’s rude remark. Not wrong. Completely correct, according to Aofil. That they won’t argue.

Still rude though.

“I’d also be feeling if Frisk was hurt,” Chara continues with a rather strange pride to their words. “And I...”

And speaking of being rude.

“That’s not funny, Chara,” Aofil spits back while gripping harder on Chara’s shins. “Stop it!”

Chara blinks with their mouth hanging open in a daze. “...N-no, it’s not that. I...I think we’re close. That’s what I felt.”

...Fair enough. Aofil needs a brief moment for their heart to sink back down from their throat. Their entire back is almost completely iced up from the chill sent up it. It is a very unstable house of cards they’re walking on. One slight shove in any direction, be it good or bad, and this will all come tumbling down. Aofil needs to figure out how to get out of Endogeny with Frisk. 

Never ever could they predict that something like this would happen. The only reason they aren’t breathing deeply and hurriedly with panic is because they feel that this is familiar to the previous time they had Chara up on their shoulders.

And the fact that they can call upon that experience is absurd beyond reason!

Alright, alright, alright.

Calm down.

Aofil exhales with their entire body.

“Just a bit more,” Chara informs with care. “Couple of more steps, and then we’ll be home.”

Home?

Which home?

Aofil looks up through their fringe.

“Which ho-”

Materializing out of less than thin air right in front of Aofil is another pair of doors. Their muzzle scrunches like an accordion stomped on by Undyne as they slam into it, and they recoil back just as hard and which just as much pain, albeit on their face rather than their ears.

“Ow!” Aofil cries as they throw their startled neck back. “Ow!” they cry again when Chara desperately tugs at their horns to prevent themselves from falling off. Pain from both the front and back of Aofil’s head? What’s next?

The rough jeans of Chara’s slide up underneath the insides of Aofil’s furry ears as their hands slip off, and they fall back while crossing their legs more desperately around Aofil’s throat. Aofil can’t even muster up a third clean cry, only a gargled bleat that spills out of their mouth. The two Boss Monsters fall in tandem amid a symphony of startled bleats that turn quiet as they slam into the floor of nothingness. The white circle created by them crashing together blinds them for a moment as they try to roll off each other.

Where should Aofil begin caressing? Their ears, their horns, their muzzle? They blow their nose in a pained huff, but it only makes things worse.

“Fur does not have good friction to it,” Chara mutters while bending their arms behind their head. “Especially when trying to grip horns.”

Aofil reforms their muzzle carefully with their hands. Nothing seems to be broken, if it even could be broken at the moment, but the pain is still blossoming. “Pain is awareness, right?” they ask muffled as they talk through the fur on their hands. “That it hurts means that my body isn’t going through anything?” They’re gonna turn this into something positive one way or another to balance it out again.

“Yes.”

Aofil drags an ungraceful snort through their mushed nostrils. “Good.” They’d spit it out if they weren’t raised properly. Instead they swallow it through their throat still clamped from Chara wrapping their legs around it. “Gotta say though,” they begin as they sit up from their fetal position with a recuperating shake to their head, “I’m not feeling quite welcomed after this, to be honest.” They throw a heel at the two wooden doors which connects with a rattly thud. “Feels a bit too eager springing up just in front of me.”

“Too in your face?”

“That too,” admits Aofil after a silent mumble. They lift up their shirt’s collar and run it over their nose. The yellow color is perfect to hide any snot that might escape. “Where does it lead too?”

Chara crosses their legs after jumping on their butt forwards next to Aofil. “Frisk and your soul.”

Aofil angles up a knee for their arm to rest on. “And which home did you mean?” They rub the final chafing out of their ear between their fingers. “Not ours, I’m guessing, with present appearance in mind.” They flick their ear out to let it fall down against their cheek for dramatic flair and to prove their point further.

“It’s good that you’ve figured it out,” says Chara with a nod before pushing themselves up on their paws.

“Because it indicates further that my body is safe?” Aofil hazards while throwing their resting hand up in half a shrug.

Chara offers a warm smile as they open one of the doors. It’s dark inside, but not the same dark that is around currently. A more comforting dark. A dark that’s there because the light hasn’t been turned on yet, in contrast to light not even existing in the first place. A dark that your eyes have when you close your eyes and count to ten when playing with your friends instead of the dark of having a dreamless sleep.

A more warm dark.

A more homey context to it.

“You coming or what?” Chara asks with an eyebrow raised. “Also,” they mock scratch their chin with their hand, “what’s this about?”

Aofil didn’t even realize that they were leaning forward over their knee with their hand slowly caressing their chin in thought. “Hm?” They remove and look at it for a couple of seconds before clearing their throat. “Nothing.” With a push they stand up and brush themselves off. “After you this time.”

Chara shrugs and enters.

Alright then. Aofil follows suit. “Should I close the door behind me?”

“Yeah.”

So they do.

They find themselves again in the dark, but with it being more comfortable, as they felt from outside it. There’s also sound. And touch. The sound of cloth being disturbed as Aofil continues forward, and the same cloth brushing past their cheeks and hair. There’s some plastic and metallic rattling as they push it out of their way. No footsteps yet though. Not from Chara, or Aofil. What they are walking on is wood though, that much they can deduce. However, the pressure felt as they take their steps is even less than before. Aofil squats down and knocks with a knuckle against the floor.

“Come on, Aofil!” Chara stage whispers a few steps in front. “We’re soon there!” The excitement in their voice is overflowing.

“Where exact...” Wait a second… Aofil grips their throat. Was that their voice? It sounded a bit-

A furry hand grabs their wrist. Not only gripping, but fully wrapping around it. Before Aofil can react, they’re dragged forwards. Is this Chara? How are they so strong? Why is their hand so large all of a sudden?

And what is that vertical slit of dim light?

The wardrobe door explodes open, and out of it tumbles two Boss Monsters covered in sweaters of different stripes and colors. They stumble onto the ground, and roll into a mess of yarn and fur before coming to a halt with a creaking sound as their horns grind against the wooden floor.

With their head dazed and covered in a green and yellow striped sweater, Aofil stands up with a hefty wobble. They try and tug the sweater off, but their horns have gone through the fabric, so they just end up throwing themselves blindly to the side, where they slam into something soft.

A bleat rings out, but it’s not from them.

“Stop moving,” Chara orders from behind Aofil. After sternly grabbing Aofil’s shoulders to have them stand still, they unhook the sweater from their twin’s horns. “There.”

Aofil can finally pull the sweater off and see what they crashed into.

Before them sits Asriel with his bed cover tugged against himself like Alphys would her tail. “Did you fall out of your bunk bed?” he asks after swallowing hard.

Just one small problem before Aofil can answer that.

Asriel’s in the lower bed.

And Aofil’s at his level, looking straight into his widely opened and slightly worried eyes. They look down, and their own eyes widen just as big.

“What?”

“Did you hit your head?” Asriel asks again to Aofil staring wide-eyed and with their jaw on the floor. He removes his cover and swings his furry legs over the edge of his bed. “I’ll get mom.”

Mom?

Wait...

Mom!

No, it can’t be. Can it? With Aofil being the size of Asriel, and being a Boss Monster as Asriel, and wearing a sweater like Asriel, and being in the same bedroom as Asriel, and with a vacant spot in the bed above the one that Asriel’s in.

“Mom?” they ask slowly. Their head cranes forward as if being closer to Asriel will make the question less strange to speak. “Our mom?”

Asriel blinks for a couple seconds before his muzzle begins forming his very confused words. “...Yes...mom. You want me to get dad too, Aofil?”

“But aren’t you my...” Aofil glances behind them to Chara tapping a claw on Frisk’s head to wake them up. “Aren’t you my soul?” stumbles from their quivering lips to Asriel again with a befuddled claw raised to hopelessly point at him.

A few more seconds of silence passes before Asriel wrings his cover inside his hand with an exasperated sigh. “You just had to tell them, didn’t you?” he almost scorns over Aofil’s shoulder.

Chara answers the accusation with a haphazard shrug. “They would’ve realized even if I didn’t say anything.”

Nope!

Hold up one goddamn minute here!

“Why?” voices Aofil as they spin around from Asriel to Chara on their pawed heels with their pointing claw now raised vertically in stark and just objection. “Why is my soul talking over my shoulder?” And more importantly. “Why did you want to keep your identity a secret from me?” they critique with such haste and intensity that they cough a bleat halfway through. An adorable bleat that would melt any and all hearts hearing it. However, there are no hearts around, only souls.

Souls that are apparently scheming behind Aofil’s back, despite one of them ostentatiously existing inside Aofil. 

“Forgive me for swearing, but what in the absolute f-”

“Ahem!”

Aofil looks over their shoulders for a brief moment before turning their blinking head slowly back. “Oh no,” they sigh out silently before getting picked up by a pair of warm and motherly hands.

“Don’t speak with your father’s tongue now, Aofil. And is that some sniffles you have on your collar?”

Aofil looks up from the cradle Toriel’s made for them with her purple-clad arms. She gently brushes away their hair from their temple as she inspects with care and concern.

“Need I remind you which queen it was that didn’t realize that the microphone was still on?” comes a teasing and deep voice from behind Toriel. She angles her head backwards before receiving a kiss from Asgore. More from his golden beard than his mouth from the angle Aofil has.

They can only stare.

“Now, what are you kids up to?” Asgore poses to the inhabitants of the child bedroom with a calm, yet still slightly stern tone to his cavernous voice. “You mom and I need some sleep too if we’re gonna keep our promise for tomorrow.”

“I know it is a big day tomorrow, my children, but you need your sleep.”

Asgore yawns to help emphasize.

“Thank you, dear,” Toriel giggles.

“You’re welcome, Tori.”

“Save your excitement for then, will you, children?” Toriel smiles down at Aofil again as she lifts them up to her. Her lips gingerly touch at their cheek, and they can feel it blossom into a roaring fire from the soft touch. “Oh I do wish I had yours and Chara’s cheeks,” she sighs wishfully. “More rosy than anything your father could ever grow in his garden.”

“My garden pales against my children. They’re half me, but all those four cheeks are mine, my dear.”

Toriel tilts her head onto her shoulder to meet Asgore’s lovingly challenging gaze. “You wish, Gorey.”

“What about me?” comes a slightly worried question from Asriel.

“Oh I wish I had the way your horns grew, my child.”

“And she also wishes she had your backwards cowlick, Frisk,” Asgore finishes. He gets a second condescending tilt from his wife head and pouting lips in return, but he only laughs it off. “No lying in front of the children, Tori.”

“You wish more than I that I would have that adorable antenna, king.”

The last word would slay any monster not prepared, but Asgore counters it by gently nuzzling his muzzle underneath Toriel’s heavy and silky ear. “You wouldn’t even have needed your ‘Seven Sowls’ to make me fall for you back then if you had it.”

To that, Toriel scoffs, but she does so gently enough as to not disturb Aofil cuddled inside her woolly bosom. “If only you were so confident, back then,” she accentuates with two large exhales through her smiling nose, “then you wouldn’t have needed to be a prince to have been worthy of me.”

Asgore smile broadens into a victorious grin. “I’m still not worthy of you, Tori.”

Toriel’s faux scowl shatters like glass underneath a mighty blow from the hammer that is Asgore’s smile, and she’s forced to melt underneath Asgore’s admission. “Oh you.” She swats her ear at him, but he lets it hit him without the slightest of flinch. It slowly runs down his forehead and eyes as he keeps his grin. He’s won, and they both know it. “If you keep this up I might start to think that you love me, Gorey.”

A pair of kingly and golden eyebrows sneak up from behind Toriel’s ear resting on Asgore’s muzzle. “Possibly.”

Toriel flicks her ear back with a “tsk” and an affectionate shake to her head. “So you see, dear children,” she informs the four pair of Boss Monster eyes looking at her from inside the dimly lit bedroom, “Asgore and I all wish we had what you had.” Her head rests on Asgore’s steady shoulder as she again sighs wishfully. “How proud I am to be you mom, and how proud Asgore is to be your father.”

Aofil’s brow furrows, and they look away at the thrown-opened wardrobe. 

“I’ll help you up again,” offers Toriel.

“And I’ll get you up to your bed, Chara,” offers Asgore.

It’s a very nostalgic feeling that washes over Aofil as Toriel lifts them up effortlessly on the top bunk bed above Asriel. They were never lifted up this strongly though. Gently, of course, but so immensely strongly by Toriel. Asgore barely uses more than a finger to help Chara up too.

“Lay down,” Toriel whispers carefully as she even more carefully pushes Aofil’s head down into the awaiting pillow. She tucks them in with their cover before hovering her hand over their head. “You want me to heal you?”

Aofil stares at Toriel for what feels like a complete minute. They catch themselves almost giving in to this. To this...illusion. Hearing her ask to heal their head though, it reminds them of when she first did it. Years past, she did that to Aofil, but then they were a human.

They. 

Are. 

A. 

Human.

This isn’t real.

But for a moment in her arms they’d almost forgotten that. 

“No, I’m fine,” they answer, purposely omitting calling her ‘mom’. They’re not sure what will happen if they try and break out of this illusion while Toriel and Asgore are still here, so they bide it for now.

Toriel still smiles as she retracts her hand after giving Aofil one last cherished caress on their blossoming cheek. “Sleep well, child.” She squats down to give the same motherly treatment to Asriel. “And you too, my child.”

Because to her they’re all equally her child.

And that Aofil knows isn’t true.

The two proud Boss Monster parents collect at the door frame, Asgore motioning for Toriel to go first, which she does with a slight nod to her head. “Goodnight, all of you,” she wishes to her tucked-in children before putting her hands over the front of her robe and leaving the room.

“Love you all,” Asgore appends with just as much love before he turns off the light and closes the door.

It’s dark again.

A confusing dark.

A dark that Aofil could never fall asleep in. 

That they shouldn’t fall asleep in.

Not when they’re like this. Not when everything around them is like this. This isn’t real! It can’t be!

Yet they wait for the sound of the door to Toriel and Asgore’s bedroom to close before they roll over to the fence of their bunk bed. “Alright,” they say to the room only lit up by a night light near the wardrobe. They clear their throat as it still got some bleating inside of it. “Explain!”

There’s some shuffling from underneath, as if Asriel’s having a bad dream and can’t fall asleep again. That’s not applicable now though, and Aofil leans over the fence with their ears blocking out the night light from their vision as they flop down over their burning cheeks. “You know fully well what I mean, don’t you?” they press further as their grip hardens on the wooden fence. “You’re my soul, Asriel. I know that! Why are you trying to lie to me? Is it because you want to stay here inside an amalgamate? Is that what it is?”

More shuffling, but from the other side of the room.

“Do you want more control over me or something? Answer me!”

“Aofil.”

They lift their head to peer into the dark. That voice. It’s been so many years since last time. “Frisk?” they ask the figure sitting up at the bottom of the opposite bunk bed.

“This is my doing,” comes an embarrassed admission filled with guilt. Not enough to summon a bleat, but very close. “I...”

“I don’t like the fact that my soul is tossing and turning because I asked it for an explanation,” Aofil feels that they have to voice rather urgently. The warmth and tender caress from Toriel still lingers on them like a warm blanket weaved out of reminiscent. “We need to get out of Endogeny, Frisk.” They shuffle over to the ladder leading down on their knees. “If I’ve understood anything from all of this then the exit out of Endogeny will be through the door. You’ll have to think that it is too so that both our souls are on the same page, just in case.”

“We can stay for a while.”

Aofil freezes on the ladder, having only managed one step down before they snap their head around. “You have your real brother and your real parents outside in the real world,” Aofil repeats with each instance coming closer and closer to a scream. They jump down the last height and land softly on their large paws. Asriel cowers underneath his blanket as Aofil casts a hard glare at him.

“Just one day...”

Frisk hand is limp when Aofil grabs it. They blink away the rushing memory of Chara doing the same to them on that morning when everything began. Frisk does the same that Aofil did when Chara told them that they had to go to Mt. Ebott, jerking their hand back towards them while caressing it in doubt and worry.

But this isn’t the case of a human hand grabbing a human wrist. It is a Boss Monster wrist grabbing a Boss Monster wrist. It. Isn’t. Real!

Aofil grabs further up Frisk’s arm, and tugs them hard up on their browner paws. Their cowlick bends against the bottom of the upper bunk bed, and their muzzle lowers with a sigh. Like a wagon, Aofil drags Frisk over to the door. They open it, and…

They close it again.

And open it.

And close it.

And open it.

And-

“You gotta think about getting out of here too, Frisk!” Aofil spits behind them with their muzzle coiled like a metal spring. “Alright?”

“It’s still my birthday in here...”

The door closes one last time as Aofil’s head falls against it. “Please!” The hasp of the lock stops at the door frame, but Aofil’s second thud of their forehead closes it properly. They let their head slide down until their horns provide enough friction for their head to hang.

“It’s still your birthday out there,” Aofil retorts through a sigh. “The real Asriel is outside. The real Toriel, and the real Asgore. Your real family. The real you, and the real me. Not...” They turn around and drag up Frisk’s sleeve. “Not this,” they finish as they run their claw up and down Frisk’s furry forearm. Even in the faint light it’s still very visible why they are doing it.

Frisk drags their sleeve back. “It is real to you though.”

“And this is what I meant with my worry about you wanting to be more monster.” Aofil lets go of Frisk’s hand as they need both of their own to rub against their face. Their wrists are bent awkwardly against their muzzle as they rub the flats of their hands against their forehead. “What if everyone else outside are worried? I don’t even know how long we’ve been in here.”

“Not for long,” whispers Frisk with their mouth barely moving. “It’s gonna just be a couple of seconds, maybe even just a few minutes when we decide to leave.”

“And we’re deciding to leave right now,” Aofil says with all the seriousness their small Boss Monster body can muster while throwing a finger downwards. “You get that?”

“One day.”

“No.”

“Just one day.”

“No.”

“We’ll all four be siblings.”

“We all four aren’t siblings,” Aofil reminds harshly. There really isn’t another way to do it to get their point across. “You and I aren’t siblings, and Chara and Asriel aren’t real here. Nor is Toriel and Asgore, and-”

“But what if I want to live in a fantasy for just one day!”

Aofil dodges the rapid paw thrown against the door very close to their head. They flinch as Frisk drags back their lips to bare their gritting teeth.

“I know this, Aofil! I know this isn’t real! I need a break from reality! Just to get this all out of my system!”

“That’s what the birthday party is for!” Aofil throws their hand against the tensed bend of Frisk’s arm. “That is what all of your friends, all of your family, have come together for!” They grab Frisk’s shoulder sturdily, but not enough so that their claws cause any damage. Through the dark they breathe heavily in rhythm with Frisk. “This is too much. Us being siblings and Boss Monster children to Asgore and Toriel is too much, Frisk. I don’t trust you having this as a memory. And you shouldn’t trust yourself with it. Whether or not you can still reset with Chara gone, not even yourself might know, but you might be tempted to try if you think back to this.”

Frisk’s shoulder begins sagging underneath Aofil’s palms.

“We were even worried about you resetting when you first faced Mettaton in Toriel’s robe and with prosthetic ears stapled on, for crying out loud! And for that there was a reality for you to compare to and realize that it had to be a joke and a charade set up just for you. You still wanted the reality more than you wanted the fantasy.”

The heaving shoulders collapse, and Aofil follows Frisk down as their knees buckle and they crash sobbing onto the purple carpet.

“And this fantasy is too much something you’d want as a reality. You know how memories work, Frisk. You know how powerful they can be, and how much they can consume someone.”

The tears begin pooling at the fringe of the delta rune sewn into the carpet.

“You liked it in mom’s hands though, Aofil.”

They turn to where Asriel spoke from. “Don’t involve yourself in this. I’m telling you, as your human, as your vessel, to not involve myself in this.”

“But you also want this, in a way.”

“I don’t.”

“For Frisk.”

“...”

Dammit.

Frisk tilts their head up to Aofil clenching their teeth together. “D-do...you?”

Aofil looks into Frisk’s tear-filled eyes. Despite the brown fur encompassing, it’s still the same pair of eyes Aofil knows. The eyes of a human who’s needed this birthday for so long. The planned catharsis to give an outlet for all the emotions built up over the years.

Wasn’t it enough? Wasn’t Frisk’s friends and family dressing up as each other enough? Them getting this catharsis out of their mind, but not their…

Aofil tilts their head over to Asriel.

And then to Chara.

Not their soul…

How far is Aofil gonna be the adult to Frisk? So far as to become a child? Not only in form, but in soul too? 

And with them being inside an amalgamate while it’s all happening, and...

They can hear Asriel squirming again.

Best they say something.

“Yes,” Aofil admits while they glide down with their back against the door. Their sweater comes up halfway down, but it doesn’t really make a difference. “I do. I’d join you too, Frisk. Waking up to Toriel making breakfast for us all is not something I can lie about not wanting to experience too. Hell, I would’ve even indulged in some breakfast snails while I’ve got the palette for it.” Aofil’s brief smile turns back into a serious frown again. “But, again, the memories. And again, with us being inside Endogeny.”

A dog’s head puffs and bumps its way underneath Aofil’s hand. It’s bigger than before.

“Endogeny won’t hurt us,” Frisk says as they pat another dog materializing between their legs and with its head resting on their legs.

Aofil looks down to where the dog was just a moment ago, but now it’s gone. “That still leaves the memories.”

“What if you don’t remember?”

Asriel jumps out of his bed at Chara’s remark, and that in turn clues Aofil into the feeling that they might consider that notion. “I don’t know,” they still say. “They always seem to sneak their way back one way or another.”

“You got your own soul to guarantee it though,” counters Asriel. “And you still don’t remember your time spent with Chara fully. What flashed when you grabbed Frisk was just the two of you connecting for the first time in here. Last time you had a soul touch yours was when you fused with Asriel, and that’s what popped up briefly.”

Aofil rolls their head over to where Asriel stands bouncing on his excited knees with his hands clenched in the same excitement. Their horns leave two parabolic lines in the wood. “Mhm?” they voice without having been persuaded. Their tone has Asriel bouncing slower.

“It is something even I don’t remember,” he explains while rolling his thumbs, “because I chose not to. Well...” he corrects while kicking his legs in remorse. “I didn’t really have a choice, to be honest.”

“Kitchen fire?” Aofil guesses.

“More in the sense that everything was on fire. Couldn’t save it all, and a small part of me got lost, as you know. What I could save about Chara was so...tainted, that it was better for you not to have any idea about it.” Asriel returns to his bed which he sits down on with his legs swinging over the edge. “I say I, but I mean you. Since…again...you know...”

Aofil will never.

Asriel nods. “Yeah, I know that.”

Aofil turns back to Frisk, who’s sobbing has calmed down. They have their legs pulled up to their chin, with their muzzle resting on it.

“I am explaining it to myself with the words I want to hear,” Aofil says with a sigh that has Asriel’s legs freezing mid-swing. “But the point still stands that I don’t remember Chara, even with everything that’s happened.”

“I promise,” says Asriel.

Of course Aofil would promise themselves.

“And you?” Aofil shoots over to Chara.

A thoughtful moment passes by.

“I promise,” says Chara. “It’s for the better, Frisk.”

“...I know,” they answer reluctantly.

Aofil offers a hand for Frisk to stand up with. “So, how do we do this then? Are we gonna believe that we are all siblings tomorrow? You two can do that, right?” they ask the souls on respective bunk bed. “But only for one day.”

“Only for one day,” the souls answer in unison as Aofil helps Frisk over to the bed underneath Chara.

Frisk holds Aofil’s hand as they try and let loose. They throw themselves into their embrace, and caress their muzzle against Aofil’s neck. “Thank you,” they whisper in one last sob. “I need this.”

Hopefully them scaring Frisk about the memories is enough to make them feel hesitant when they think back to this. Aofil’s not completely convinced about the whole memory erasing thing, and frankly that is quite scary in the first place. 

Not to mention that they’re feeling that something beginning to happen in their head.

“Yes, yes.” Aofil gently pushes Frisk away and eases them back into their bed. Not as gently and as motherly as Toriel, since the two are siblings, after all. “Happy birthday, Frisk. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wait a second…

Sibling?

Oh, looks like the brainwashing has already begun.

Fantastic.

“Singe my soul...” they breathe out quietly so that mom doesn’t hear them swearing again.

Mom?

Guess the brainwashing is moving fast!

So maybe Aofil should ask their brother about a couple of things while they still have the chance.

“Psst,” they whisper to Asriel as they pass him by on the way to the ladder up to their bed. “Am I fine with Muffet now? Doubt and that gone?”

Asriel nods.

“Good.” And also. “What about magic? Can I do that?”

“Not sure. We’ll see.”

One out of two is good enough.

Aofil climbs back up into their bed. They cozy up on their pillow before dragging their cover over them. It’s not as comfortable as when mom tucked them in, but if they roll from side to side it comes close enough. Hopefully they can fall asleep quickly.

Tomorrow’s a big day!

The door is opened slightly ajar, and a careful white muzzle peeks in.

“Are they all asleep?” wonders Toriel from outside.

“Yes.”

Asgore retreats his muzzle back out and closing the door.

“All of our children are asleep.”


	50. House of goat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April Fluff!
> 
> Yes, just lean back and enjoy. This is essentially outside the story, but it is still so, so good. Indulge with me, please, because no one person can withstand this much fluff.
> 
>  
> 
> [ Many thanks again to BlackRazorBill for providing some visuals to this April Fluff!](http://blackrazorbill.tumblr.com/)

Morning.

An exciting morning.

A very important morning.

“Shh, don’t wake them now.”

A morning filled with sneaking paws moving to the opened bedroom door. A hunched over morning to not make any sounds. A very hushed morning. Don’t-ruin-the-surprise morning. 

“Ow!”

...Or at least, it was meant as one.

“Sorry,” Aofil whispers with their hands over their muzzle and with their panicked eyes shooting over to Frisk in their bed.

Still asleep.

Phew!

“We might have to file down your claws a bit if you’re gonna get your toes stuck in your sibling’s bed like that.”

A large and gentle paw pushes against their back through the slightly opened bedroom door. Once outside, Aofil opens their hands over their mouth to hiccup their caught bleat into their palms to calm its volume. Chara and Asriel have already hurried into the living room and onto their chairs, the claws on their paws not having been caught on the lower bunk bed and tripped them over.

“We’ll trim them after breakfast though, child,” Toriel says while caressing Aofil’s head like a paintbrush. First softly backwards with the back of her hand, and then softly forwards with her palm. “Since we have presents to wrap.”

Aofil nods so hard their ears almost knot themselves together. They take Toriel’s hand in theirs and lead her hurriedly through the hall. “Can I wrap mine in the snail paper, mom? Please!”

Toriel spins Aofil around in a giggling pirouette. “Of course, child.” For as long as she can remember Aofil’s always loved that. From their earliest days of stumbling around trying to walk they were always spinning around on both their heels and their toes. Both of their beige hands wrapped around Asgore’s large finger as they would rather dance in circles rather than learn how to walk. Their hands didn’t cover much of Asgore’s fur on his finger back then, and now Aofil’s hand fits comfortably inside Toriel’s.

Oh, my children. How much you’ve all grown.

“But we better hurry up before your siblings use it all up on their presents.”

Aofil’s eyes again widen in panic. Their mouth begins to drop, but they slam it shut into a frown. “Unfair!”

Toriel gingerly reminds their child that they’re supposed to be quiet with a tender hush.

“Unfair,” Aofil bleats in a whisper with their small hands balled up. Their cheeks begin to warm as they deepen their frown further.

But Toriel can only smile at the burning blushes turning Aofil’s beige fur into a grayish pink color. She again ruffles her child’s head, to their pouting dismay. As she lifts her head again she spots something outside the hallway window. She stops to narrow her eyes. “What is it, mom?” Aofil pries inquisitively before putting their muzzle up on the windowsill. They narrow their eyes as well to mirror their mom. “Dad? Who is he talking to?”

Toriel turns her head to the kitchen. Aofil does the same, and almost knocks off a potted Golden Flower plant with the tip of their nose. They catch it just before it falls over. To their immense relief, Toriel didn’t see what happened, and they drag a light sigh which puffs the purple curtains up to gently fall onto their head. They look at Toriel through the white delta rune sewn in.

“Would you...” Toriel pauses for a heartfelt giggle as she sees the edge of Aofil’s beige nose poking out from underneath the curtain. She gently taps a finger against it “Snoot,” and Aofil throws their arms up.

“Hoot.”

Toriel makes sure to tug their yellow and purple striped sweater back down again as she removes the curtain. “Would you kindly go and ask your father to conclude his business and come back inside?”

Aofil nods excitingly. “Yes.” They burst towards the door and puts their palm on the large handle. Even with their fingers fully outstretched they barely envelop it. “Uh...” they mumble before looking bashfully up underneath their long fringe. “What does ‘conclude’ mean?”

Toriel bends forward. “It means to finish up, my child.”

“Ah!” Aofil freezes as they hear how loud they said that. “Ah,” they again whisper with their free hand flat against their cheek. It falls down after a thoughtful second as Aofil looks past their mother smiling ever so warmly and into the living room where their brother Asriel and twin Chara are hard at work trying to get some tape out of their respective fur. Shaking it off doesn’t work as it only jumps over to the other one, and tugging it off doesn’t work either, since it hurts. Maybe mom could help them?

Toriel follows Aofil’s worried look with her head. She scoffs lightly. “Oh, children,” she says while failing to keep a stern expression, “I told you you should’ve waited for me.” She turns her head back to Aofil. “I’ll make sure that there is some snail wrapping paper for you when you return.”

“And for dad too?”

“And for dad too,” Toriel repeats with a nod. “Now go and see to it that he’s consummated with his captain.”

“Uh...”

Toriel giggles at Aofil’s jaw dangling as they try to think. She shouldn’t be doing this, really, with all these obscure words, but with the way Aofil’s hair, ears, and mouth hangs so agape when they think so hard is just so adorable. Swallowed up whole by their curiosity. “Concluded,” she explains after a pleased exhale.

“That he’s concluded!” Aofil acknowledges proudly with the new word they’ve learned. They wait for their mother’s equally proud nod before opening the front door and closing it, gently, very gently, very very gently as to not wake Frisk, behind them.

The morning breeze greets Aofil’s hair and fur with a playful tussle. The smell of the blooming tree at the end of the pathway surrounded by Asgore’s varied gardening is as fresh as the Waterfall, and as awakening as Snowdin. Aofil doesn’t want to breathe out. They want to breathe in for as long as they live! The more they do, the more of the different flowers and trees they can smell at the same time. Fill their puffed up little body with as much fresh and odorous air as they can so they can save it up for Frisk later. They have to get their father to finish and conclude first though. And then wrap their present for Frisk. But after then they’ll…

Their cheeks almost explode from the sheer pressure of their joyful bleat that they have to hold in until they can sing it out for Frisk. They ball their hands again and push them against both sides of their cheeks to hold it in. Their cheeks move around like they’re kneading dough, but eventually they manage to swallow their bleat, and they breathe out carefully.

Determined, they step down the path towards where Asgore is squatting down next to…

Gerson?

What is he doing here? To give some gifts to Frisk?

Aofil didn’t get a gift from Gerson when they had their birthday. Neither did Chara or Asriel. Strange. Aofil crosses their arms as they lean on the large, black tree to think.

Mom and dad have always made sure all four get the same amount of presents. Not that it really matters since they share it between them all the time, even their sweaters. It’s fun to once or twice go around with the same colored stripes, especially when others have to pause to guess which one is Aofil, and which one is Chara. They’ve gotten pretty good at imitating the other beyond being twins. They haven’t managed to fool mom or dad yet.

...Yet.

Although they would never try to. Not to mom and dad. Or Frisk and Asriel. Although although, there will never be a yet for Frisk and Asriel.

Gerson though?

Aofil looks over to him and dad chatting away with their backs turned towards Aofil and the house. They could maybe have done it if they had Chara’s sweater on, but right now they don’t. Maybe they shouldn’t do it on Frisk’s birthday though.

Would be rude.

Aofil pushes off the tree with their shoulder, and saunters up just behind Asgore’s impressive backside. Him and Gerson hasn’t noticed Aofil yet. The two must be very busy not concluding if they don’t even notice Aofil standing just behind trying to peek through the small gap between the two.

Could it be a present for Frisk?

Only one way to find out.

They back up a few steps with their brow focused and their knees bent.

“Good morning, dad!” Aofil greets as they dive underneath their father’s large arm. “What is-”

They disappears inside Asgore’s robe as he envelopes them hurriedly. “G-good morning, Aofil,” he stammers in surprise. “Hide it!” he whispers not quiet enough for Aofil not to hear. “Shouldn’t you be inside and be wrapping presents for Frisk with the others?” he asks through the fabric.

“You should too!” Aofil replies as they flail around with all their limbs and ears trying to untangle themselves to get out of their soft prison. In their childish thrashing about they manage to hook their small horns over the edge of Asgore’s purple morning robe. They bend it down, and pop out with their face right up against a very surprised king and his even kinglier beard.

“Snoot!” they begin as they bump their small and beige muzzle against their father’s large and white one, which melts the surprise into fatherly warmth.

“And hoot,” he finishes before leaning over and giving Aofil a kiss on their head. His beard tickles their ears as they’re drowned inside its golden embrace. Without any effort he places his child upon his shoulder where they sit giggling with their legs kicking. He leans his head to the side to give them a large horn to hold on to.

In case Toriel is watching.

“Are you concluded with Gerson now?” wonders Aofil while nodding as a greeting to the turtle with both his hands behind his shell.

“Now, now, child,” Asgore remarks subtly. “You can at least greet properly before asking if we are done.”

“Oh!” Aofil stretches out their free hand. “Hello, Gerson. Good morning.”

Asgore bends over so that Gerson can reach up and take Aofil’s hand in his. The grip is strong and commanding. “Well met this wonderful morning, Aofil,” he greets back with a wide smile upon his face which summons a pair of wrinkles around his deep dimples. His other hand is still bent behind his shell as inconspicuously as he can.

Aofil wishes a bit that they could greet like Gerson does. He could probably get Aofil and their siblings to clean their room without argument if he asked the same way he talks. There’s something with the way he talks that’s just so...royal! Not like mom or dad, but like...more so! There is so much respect in his voice! Aofil wants to know how to talk like that. That way they can teach their siblings!

So they can all conclude together!

“And yes, the king and I have concluded for now.” Gerson takes a bow, which both Asgore and Aofil return. “Please send my most heartfelt congratulations to Frisk.”

Aofil nods eagerly before pausing and bowing again instead. “I’ll do that, Sir Gerson.”

They get another smile in return. “I’m grateful.”

“And what about...” Asgore chimes in while rolling his hand in the air.

“Yes, yes, Asgore,” Gerson waves off as if swatting away a bothersome flying Jerry. “I’ll have them done at lunch.” He stops halfway in his turn around to leave. “And I hope you’ve kept up your training there, prince.” The last word trickles out of his word with a slick to it that has Asgore tensing underneath Aofil for a brief moment. “Don’t want me cleaning the floor with you in front of your children! Wahahahahaha!”

His laugh continues to echo even as he rounds the corner at the forked road connecting to Home.

“Prince?” Aofil asks down to their father’s pouting face.

“Hm?” he asks back as his pout fades into a smile. “No,” the smile fades as well, “it’s just some old talk the two of us have.”

“Gerson trained you back before you met mom, right?” Aofil pries further while carefully shifting so that they’re facing their father right on. “When you were a prince that couldn’t even read road signs?”

Asgore’s brow sinks as if tied to two large rocks. “How do you know that?”

“Mom.”

Figures.

“She told Chara and Asriel before when they took a wrong turn and ended up at the Spider Cafe instead of the Nice Cream store.” Aofil leans back as far as they can, forcing Asgore to crane his neck back so that their grip doesn’t slip off his horns. There’s not much grip between fur and horn, so he also extends an arm behind him, just in case. Aofil points over the lookout and down into the city. “The two got scared when that large spider pet jumped at them.” They lean forwards again, and Asgore breathes out.

“Spider Cafe...” he then whispers to himself as he thinks. His mighty hand disappears inside his beard, rummaging around as he mutters some thoughts. The rocks on his eyebrows disappear, and they shoot up weightlessly far into his forehead. “Oh yeah! That’s where that Muffet girl lives.”

Aofil’s legs cross over Asgore’s chest, and their mouth clamps shut.

“The one that you-”

“No!” Aofil bleats back. They cross their arms together as well, and bury their muzzle inside with a muttering huff. They sneeze as their sweater brushes against their nose. “I don’t like her.”

“Yes, you do.” Asgore chuckles, and the cavern around him does so as well. “Trust me, I know that look when someone falls instantly for another.”

Aofil’s curiosity gets the better of them, and they slowly peek up from their folded fortress. “Y-you...do?”

“Because your mother said it was the exact same look I had when I first saw her.”

Aofil looks over to the side, towards the lookout over the city. They draw on the inside of their forearm with a claw. A round, soft face, with five eyes looking at them. Blinking out of sync, which kinda freaked Aofil out a bit, but when the spider girl blinked in unison, she looked so…

They hum as they pretend they didn’t hear their own thoughts.

“We’ll go there later to pick some pastry up for later,” offers Asgore with an encouraging bounce to his shoulder. “Just the two of us. I’m sure she’s just as bashful about you as you are about her.”

The face on Aofil’s forearm gets a final cute smile, with a pair of fangs pointing down on her chin. They can’t exactly remember what hairstyle she had. They know it looked very good on her, but they can’t remember how it was. Maybe...maybe they should go and meet her again to see? “...You think?” they say without confidence.

“No.”

With a worried gasp, Aofil snaps their head over to their dad’s. He meets them by running his muzzle around theirs. “I know, my sweet Aofil.”

Aofil hugs their father’s head and accompanying beard, and he puts his arm around their back in return. 

“Frisk for now though,” he reminds. “You gotta wrap your presents, Aofil.”

“What about you?” they inquire while picking a flower from the tree that Asgore passes underneath. It’ll fit perfectly in the bow of their present. “Where is your present that you’re gonna give?”

“It’s...” Asgore coughs. “It’s...uh...”

“Is it with Gerson?” Aofil lifts up their father’s heavy ear and lays it on top of their head. It goes down all the way to the base of their neck. “I won’t tell mom,” they whisper underneath it.

The ear slides off, almost hooking into Aofil’s horn as Asgore nods. “That’s good,” he acknowledges a bit too quickly. He clears his throat. “That’s good.”

Aofil laughs at their father’s befuddled expression. All other monsters see him as a king, but everyone in Home knows who it is that really wears the pants. Not that Asgore is bothered by it. After all, that’s why he fell in love with Toriel. A soul to match his own, and one that doesn’t hold back in reminding him of that.

And with each of his four children he’s reminded a different way of his beloved. The different halves of his soul mate being expressed with his own halves just as uniquely as the shapes of his children’s horns.

Asriel, with his horns soft as Toriel’s, but with the texture of Asgore’s. Her calm demeanor and his soft side having been weaved together into a soul that wouldn’t hurt the slightest of flies or flowers. Snails though, since he got more of Asgore’s tongue and stomach than his soft side. Fur that’s white like the vastness of Snowdin, and whom not even the dirt dares to sully to risk that white fading away. A child most kind, and seeking the same kind in others, which he always finds. The only monster Asgore knows that can convince a Froggit to leave its disguise.

Chara, with horns like thick tips of a pencil sprouting out like carbon bulbs from the thick hair on the head. The same color as their twin on both hair and horns. Fur too, but only for now. They’ve started to deviate just the slightest. The difference is only visible under a lot of light, which Asgore was when he tried to separate the two’s hands having gotten stuck in some glue during the present wrapping for Asriel’s birthday. That’s why they use tape now. Chara also has the part of Toriel before she became a queen along with Asgore’s way of swaying whatever room he enters. They huff at the notion of being afraid, but jumps into a joint scared hug with Asriel when the two get jumped on by a spider pet wanting to give sloppy kisses.

Aofil, the second of the two blessings that day they arrived with their twin. Cheeks blossoming red on both their beige furs, and with hair growing like the shampoo they use is actually compost for the untamable garden that cultivates wildly on their heads. Horns beginning to curve backwards like the tip of a sickle. Asgore’s curiosity that he found when he first took his own steps outside the castle he grew up in to find Toriel, and with her love of learning making Aofil turn their head around all the time until they fall down dizzy.

Frisk, a monster who wants their birthday to be everyone else’s instead. Love and hope for the entire Underground to bathe in. They’d be standing at the side handing out towels and teaching everyone to swim as well. Their cowlick stretches almost as high and back as Asgore’s horns, and much, much further than their own horns, which are so much like Toriel’s Asgore can’t help but picture his queen with the same cowlick, and melt underneath the image.

“Dad?”

He looks up at his child sitting so comfortably upon his shoulder. “What is it?” Toriel’s eyes peeks through underneath the theater curtains of hair over the muzzle he had when he was a child so many years ago.

“The door...”

Toriel’s head bounces up from helping Chara with cutting off some wrapping paper to use for a book about different crystal structures in the Underground. Her brow sinks as she sees Asgore through the hallway window stumble backwards from having collided with the door. He fumbles as he tries to catch Aofil about to fall off his shoulder. With them safely in his large hands he extends a timid thumb and a plastered smile at his scowling wife back through the window.

“Subtle as you are sneaking out of bed at night to grab yourself some pie, aren’t you?” she mutters underneath her breath.

“I’ll check if that woke Frisk,” Chara offers as they jump off their chair. Their fringe barely has time to settle back over their red eyes before Toriel lifts them back up again.

“You continue with your presents. I need to have a word with your father on the way.”

Toriel barely manages a couple of steps into the hallway before she overhears her children whispering behind her.

“I got stuck in the tape again.”

She shakes her head as Asgore enters with the same plastered smile casting a radiant guilt that has Toriel continuing her shake, but with eyes firmly on her husband, who nods down to Aofil not at all hurt see they’re fine no worries, dear.

“Did you save some of the snail wrapper for us?” Aofil asks after gesturing for Toriel to bend down so they can lift up her ear. It’s not as heavy as Asgore’s, but it is a lot smoother to hold. 

In return, Toriel nuzzles her nose underneath Aofil’s ear. “I did,” she whispers back. Their ear is lifted up as Aofil takes a deep and excited breath that raises their entire face into a beaming smile, and Toriel stands up right again with her hands together on her robe. “Go to your siblings, my dear Aofil. Use your claw and not the scissors if you need more from the roll.”

“Can I use my magic?”

Shouldn’t really be a problem. They’ve shown themselves to be careful with it lately. “That you can do.” She gives them a twirl to set them off on their way to the living room where Asriel fruitlessly tries to shake off some striped present paper that’s stuck on the tape stuck on his hand.

“Look at them,” Asgore speaks through a deep inhale through his mushed nose. Halfway through it turns into a snore, and he quickly straightens it out with his hands. “You’d think that doing birthdays four times a year would tire them out.” He moves to embrace Toriel, but before he’s allowed to do that, he’s given a handkerchief to blow his nose and clean his fingers. “Thank you, dear,” he says after blowing a rather weathered trumpet that has his awake children giggling. Now he’s allowed to let his arms gently fall over Toriel as she leans her back into his fuzzy torso. She burrows deeper with her shoulders, and parts his beard with her head before inhaling too.

“Six times if you count the two of us,” she corrects as she moves her arms around Asgore’s sides and behind his back where she locks him in place.

As if he’d ever escape. 

“You know fully well us old monsters can’t compare to the excitement they have between each other,” he retorts with a light scoff. “We’re only their parents. We come second to them.”

Toriel leans up through her king’s golden beard with her muzzle. She pokes at his chin gingerly to inform him of her intent, and he bends his mouth down to meet hers, and they share a long moment together. “Guess we have to spoil them more then.” Toriel lets Asgore run his muzzle around hers. Each circle he makes with his rock-solid chin is followed by, what feels like, miles upon miles of soft, yet still sturdy, fur and beard. “Or what do you think, Gorey?”

Asgore again pushes his nose against his queen’s. “I’ve already arranged for that.”

“Something with Gerson?” Toriel pries while looking up underneath her eyelashes. Never have Asgore ever been able to stand against this gaze of her.

“You’ll see, Tori.”

But apparently he’s able to now? Toriel cranes her confused neck back. “You’re keeping secrets from me, my king?”

“I can’t have you gossiping to the children, my queen,” he explains the same way he addresses his people, with his back straightened and soul wide open for all to hear! “They have such power over you, you don’t even know.”

“They do not, I’ll have you know,” Toriel retorts after scoffing and shaking her head at this heinous attack on her character. Her balled fists find themselves pressed against both sides of her hips.

“Not even you can withstand half-yous,” Asgore informs with such love and tender that Toriel sinks into him again. She crosses her arms over her chest with a childish pout to her lips.

After some huffed muttering she sighs in defeat. “How old have I become if I can’t even stand up against a younger me?” She lets her eyes rest on her children celebrating that they’ve rid themselves of the curse of the haunting piece of tape. The next piece they rip off the small dispenser shaped like a snail, they carefully, veeeeeery carefully, transfer over on the tip of Chara’s claw. Their tongue comes out as they focus hard not to let any wayward wind bend it so that it fastens on the fur on their finger.

“Don’t breathe,” they command to their siblings, whom both blow up their cheeks into large balloons. Chara fails to hold in a chuckle, and their chortle shakes their hand.

And the tape gets stuck again.

Aofil and Asriel trade glances, unsure whether they can breathe again as Chara begins throwing their hand around as if it suddenly transformed into a spider pet.

“A wine becomes finer with age,” Asgore comforts as he runs the back of his hand down Toriel’s ear and cheek. She catches it as it moves down her neck and shoulder, and she squeezes it while caressing with her thumb. “But you still have a lot of years left to be finer,” comes a quick addition from Asgore’s half-scared tongue and lips.

Toriel’s are dragged into a smile hearing her husband’s bumbling words. “Nice save there, Gorey.”

The beige claw becomes free of its taped menace as Chara drags it off on the table’s edge. They grab the seat of their chair and jump sideways a step so the they’re not near it when it inevitably falls off. They come shoulder to shoulder with Aofil, who taps them on their shoulder.

“Can you hold your finger here?” They point to the intersection of the green ribbon. “I want to attach this flower, but I need your finger to hold the ribbon down for me.” Aofil holds up the flower they plucked from the tree outside to their twin, who nods.

Aofil bends the stem underneath the intersection before Chara presses down their finger. They finish the knot loosely, and slowly tighten it so that Chara can get their finger out in time. “One. Two. Three!” Aofil counts as they tighten their knot for a final and hard time. A nice little bow with a flower sticking up. “Thank you for helping me conclude this one,” they thank to Chara, who narrows their eyes.

“...Yeah, sure.”

Aofil displays the package to Asriel, who gasps in delight. “Wow, Aofil! That’s so cute.” He motions for it, and Aofil passes it along to Chara, who hands it over across the table to the white and eager hand. “I should’ve thought about that too,” he laments slightly. “But it was a good idea you did it, Aofil.”

Aofil has another one! “Let’s ask dad if we can borrow some more flowers from his garden.” 

The three siblings freeze as they stare at each other for a few quiet seconds.

Then they all jump down from their wooden chairs at the same time and rush-

No, wait! Slow down!

Ssshhhhh.

Can’t wake Frisk. Gotta walk slowly.

They all tip-toe to their amused parents. Asriel beckons for the two to come down to his level. Chara and Aofil help him lift up their parents’ ears so that he can explain the plan. “Can we get some flowers from your garden, dad? To put on our gifts to Frisk?”

“Of course you can,” Asgore answers before Toriel does. She shoots him a knowing look which he sends right back at her with a blown kiss. “Grab a tulip for your mother to have in her hair too. The bendiest you can find.”

The added caveat earns him a sharp elbow in his side, but that one he weathers. It’s not hard enough for Toriel to actually be mad about it. She’s holding back because she’d never say no to that. She curses him knowing it though.

And also him not having suggested it earlier.

With her three children eagerly skipping down the path, and with her husband walking gently behind them, Toriel decides that this is a good idea to get started with the birthday breakfast. First though, she discreetly opens the door to her childrens’ bedroom. She peeks her head inside, and catches a slight movement of the bed cover on one of the bunk beds. Frisk is on their side facing away from their mom, breathing slowly and heavily. It’s strange.

Since normally Frisk sleeps on their back.

“Oh Frisk,” Toriel laughs warmly. “We did our best to be quiet, but we’re all so excited. I’m sorry if you’re bored being alone like this, but it’ll just be a few more minutes. I promise, child.”

She waits for a few seconds before Frisk nods once. Their cowlick bounces against the wall like a spring, which has Toriel sighing wishfully.

“Cinnamon or butterscotch for the breakfast?”

Another few seconds pass. The slit of light from the slightly ajar door casts a bright angle over Frisk’s form underneath their cover.

“Snails.”

That Toriel can arrange too. “As you wish, child,” she says before closing the door again.

Snails for breakfast though? Well, it’s Frisk’s birthday, after all. Their teeth are already set to become rotten at the end of the day, like they’re always set to be during any of the birthdays celebrated in Home. There are some frozen snails in the freezer, but that won’t do for a birthday!

“Gorey!” Toriel shouts through the opened hallway window. He turns around with an almost circular tulip inside his proud hand. Toriel sighs at his stupidly happy smile. “Be on the lookout for some snails, if you can!”

He nods before shepherding his children to the more shaded part of his vast garden. Toriel follows the family herd with her softened eyes. Oh, her heart flutters so seeing this. Almost brings a tear to her eye, and it would if Frisk were there too.

Hmm…

Now that she thinks about it…

The snails are gonna take a while to be found. Aofil and Asriel are good at finding them, but even when Toriel’s with them, it’s still half an hour or so to fill up a bucket. She’s still got the pie dough to make, and for that it’s usually also a good idea to have an extra pair of hands.

But if she calls in Chara to come help with the dough it’ll take even longer for the snails to be collected.

Toriel drums her fingers on the frame of the window as she closes it. Her head turns to the side, towards the bedroom door she just closed.

“Wanna help me with the pie dough?” she asks as she opens the door again. “The rest are outside picking snails. They won’t notice you.”

Frisk turns around, blinking as they roll into the light. Toriel closes the door a bit more as to not blind her child any further. “You’ll just have to close your eyes when we pass the living room. I’m sure you can guess why.”

Frisk rubs their eyes while they nod. They blink out the last of their blindness before jumping off their bed and into their mom’s embrace.

“Happy birthday, Frisk,” Toriel wishes as she hugs her child with as much love she can muster. She gives Frisk’s head a kiss, and flick their cowlick with her nose. “Thank you for another year of being your father and I’s child. We can never thank you enough for the days you’ve given us.”

Frisk’s hug tightens around their mother’s waist, and they choke an answer.

“We love you so, child.”

And they do so in return.

“Now.” Toriel wipes away the tears from her child’s eyes with a careful thumb. “Let’s make your breakfast pie.” She puts Frisk before her so that if they fall they’ll do so into her robe. With a gentle touch, she folds the long and brown ears over Frisk’s eyes, and they press it harder against their face so that they don’t fall off. Toriel takes a timid step, and Frisk follows. She takes another, and Frisk does to. A penguin mother waddling with her child. Through the hallway they go!

“By the way, Tori,” Asgore blurts out as he opens the front door. “Should we...”

Oh no!

Frisk scrambles around their mother. 

No! Dad! He can’t see Frisk be awake!

Maybe they managed to hide in time?

“Yes, dear?” Toriel voices as if nothing happened. “Did you see something?”

“Me? No?” Asgore shakes his head large head. “Of course not. I didn’t see anything.”

Frisk grips their muzzle to hold in their breathing. Phew! They almost ruined the surprise! That was a close one! Aargh! Dad, you have the worst timing ever!

“Is Frisk still asleep, by the way?” he asks.

Frisk forces their breathing to stop in its tracks.

“Yes, they are,” Toriel answers gently.

“Good, good.”

Frisk can see their father’s shadow close in, and they back into their mom to hide further.

“Because I gotta whisper something to you, Toriel. A secret.”

“Oh?”

Asgore’s large arm round Toriel’s waist, and Frisk ducks underneath it. Close one, again!

“I really, really wish for Frisk to have the best birthday of their life,” he whispers loudly. “Because I love them with all my soul, and I know you do too, Tori. I am so happy to have them as my child.”

“Oh my, what a secret, Gorey. Good thing Frisk is asleep, otherwise they might’ve heard that one.”

One of Asgore’s fingers flick at Frisk’s cowlick as he retreats his hand back to himself.

“Yes, good thing they are asleep.”

Frisk wants to spring out from behind their mom’s legs to hug their dad…

But they can’t!

It’ll ruin the surprise!

They’ll hug him extra hard when the surprise happens though!

The hardest they can!

“And also, Tori, should we get some herbs as well for your snail pie?”

She nods. “Yes, please do. I want it to be extra special.”

“Sounds good. Hopefully Frisk won’t wake up from how good it’ll smell.”

“Oh...” Toriel sings as she massages Frisk’s ears behind her back to calm them down a bit. “I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

With a joint chuckle, the two Boss Monster parents rub noses before Asgore takes his leave to fetch the leafs for seasoning. Frisk pushes themselves up on their toes to carefully spy out the window to make sure Asgore isn’t turning back. 

“Fold your ears again, child,” advises Toriel. “We’re close to the living room.”

Frisk does so. “They’re folded,” they relay to their mom. A second later they’re shepherded to her front again, and together they waddle through the living room past the…

No, no.

Be quiet.

Gotta keep it a secret for Frisk.

Even still, Frisk’s mind begins running wild with what kinds of presents they’re walking past, but they quickly shake those thoughts out of their head. They almost ruined the surprise for Asgore, and now they’re almost doing it to themselves!

Why is having a birthday so difficult?

The mellow warmth from the wooden floor covering the living room gives way to the cold stone floor of the kitchen, and Frisk peeks an eye out from underneath the pink inside of their ear. “We’re in the kitchen now,” Toriel informs as she lets go of Frisk’s shoulders. “You can open your eyes now. Don’t turn around though.”

“What do you need me to do?” Frisk wonders as they roll up their purple and blue sleeves up to their elbows. They put on an apron in their size before handing mom’s over to her. “Wet or dry?”

“Well,” Toriel taps her knuckles on the fridge, “since the wet ingredients are in view of the living room I think it’s best if you do the dry ones, Frisk. Sounds good?”

They nod, throwing their cowlick back and forth with each joyful movement. Toriel can’t help her eyes from moving along with the springy dance. “I’ll be quiet,” they add while hushing themselves with a finger over their lips. “Just in case they decide to deliver the snails through this window.” Frisk points at the one over the sink half-opened. “I think I can make room for me to hide in the cupboards down here if that happens.”

Toriel shakes her amused head at the enthusiasm from Frisk rearranging the pots and pans in the cupboard underneath the kitchen bench. “Fetch me a couple of bowls so we can get started, will you?”

Frisk reaches into the deepest depths of the cupboard, and after stretching their fingers out, they manage to get a claw over the edge of a metallic bowl that they drag towards them. They’re lucky again as there is another slightly smaller bowl inside! “Are two enough, mom?” they ask out loud while displaying the bowls in either hand. 

“Two should be fine,” Toriel says as she takes one. “Thank you. Now, let’s begin with the flour. Do you remember the recipe? The book is in the cupboard next to you if you don’t.”

Frisk remembers! But they’ll still look in the book. They like seeing their mom’s happy expression seeing them reading and thinking. Usually she reads with them from her mind too, which is always fun! They open the cupboard next to them and fetch the old and weathered book. Carefully, they open it to where the snail pie recipe is. The writing in it is so old, and a bit hard to read due to how faded the ink’s become. Frisk remembers though, so it’s not a problem.

“Flour, baking powder, sugar, salt,” they read so that Toriel can hear. A thought strikes them though that they haven’t really had before. “Mom?”

“Yes, my child?”

“How come that all of the ingredients are so similar to dust?”

“Well...” Toriel peeks a pair of narrowed eyes over the fridge door. “What do you mean?”

“Well they’re all white, and kinda like dust. Is it because we put so much of ourselves into the pies we make?”

Toriel’s eyes soften subtly, but inside she’s screaming with relief. “Yes, that’s why, Frisk. It’s a metaphor of sorts, like you said.” She ducks behind the door again.

And exhales hard with her eyes bulging with the leaking relief.

Guess that’s a consequence of her children growing up so fast. They’re still young though, all four of them. Even if Frisk is a couple of months younger than the rest of their siblings, they’re asking questions like they were the oldest one. Not as many as Aofil, but more...heavier. Toriel’s proud over her child’s maturity, but…

She drums her fingers impatiently on the top of the fridge door.

Slow down just a little bit for mom, please, Frisk? You have no rush to become an adult, child. Stay that way for as long as you can.

Oh, Toriel, you sentimental queen.

Can’t wait for your children to grow up, but can’t accept them doing so.

She again sighs into the fridge, almost knocking over a half-empty package of Chara’s chocolate. She takes out some eggs and other fillings for when the snails arrive. Should just be a matter of dropping them into the mixture and stirring when the rest of the family returns with the freshly picked ones, so she should prepare everything else before that.

“Mom?” Frisk asks again.

Hopefully not as heavily.

“Yes?” Toriel answers while closing the fridge door with her knee from underneath her robe. She arranges the fillings she took from the fridge onto the counter. “Something else on your mind, my child?”

“I love you.”

As heavy as anything could ever be!

“I love you too, child.”

Frisk smiles at their mom before returning to painstakingly measuring up the rest of the dry ingredients. Toriel returns to her wet ones with her soul fluttering with love.

Every ingredient necessary is here now ready to be mixed. Love especially.

Everything except the snails, that is.

“There’s another one!”

Chara shoves their one-handed spade to where Asriel is pointing, catching a snail on it that they deposit into the soon-to-be full bucket. They give their brother a high-five before they start searching again.

“I should’ve thought about asking for snail pie too on my birthday,” Chara says to break the rather sudden silence. “Remind me for next time, Asriel.”

He nods as he pushes some orange flowers out of the way. Those have large leafs which the snails like to wander on. None here though, but there are some slime tracks visible, although they’re rather dry. It could be from the one Chara and he just caught, but he should continue looking here in case there’s another.

“Also, how come you like hunting snails but won’t help me and Aofil catch butterflies?” They’ve always meant to ask that to him, but they’ve always forgotten about it. Now that the two are alone and out snail hunting together, it’s finally enough for the question to slip out of Chara’s mouth.

Asriel shrugs. “I like butterflies,” he explains very thoroughly and intricate.

But for some strange reason that’s not enough for Chara, who leans their chin over the orange flower so that it bends down onto Asriel’s head. Not enough to have his bulging horns pierce through it, but hard enough so that they get some color to them. “You like snails too,” Chara retorts, causing the flower to dab at Asriel’s head with each flap of their beige chin. They raise their eyebrows upon high when Asriel leans out and away from the flower the size of his face. “You like them with a lot of lemon, partner.”

“They’re...yummy,” Asriel again explains, but this time with his hand rubbing against his other arm. Another shrug to punctuate too.

This time it seems to be enough for Chara, who drags a quick frown and leans back slowly from the now bent orange flower to not have it slam against their face. It’s pollen season, and these Surface flowers makes their nose so stuffed during that period. It’s annoying. Almost as bad as when Aofil ran into them when Chara was fetching flour for mom during Asriel’s birthday. Aofil’s fault, not theirs.

But on the bright side the two had the same fur as Asriel, mom, and dad had after their collision. Not that they could see much of it with the dough starting to form in their irritated eyes beginning to water.

“Ow!”

Asriel and Chara turn around to where they just heard Asgore voice his pain. They look at each other for a second before replacing the lid on the snail bucket and grabbing a handle each to carry it over. 

“Ow!”

Chara points to the left, and Asriel follows along.

“Ow!”

They’re close now.

“Ow!”

“Dad tripped into a bush,” Aofil informs before plucking away another burr from Asgore’s beard. He tries to smile, but it instantly turns into a pained scowl.

“Ow!”

“Isn’t that the bush that mom wanted you to plant?” Asriel realizes after catching a look of the cracked branches and vines from the bush behind Aofil. He sets the bucket down with Chara, and moves up to help. “The one you said your beard wouldn’t get stuck in?”

“Don’t. Ow! Tell. Ow! Her. Ow! About. Ow! This.”

Aofil throws a burr onto the lid of the snail bucket. “How many snails do we have now?” It bounces off and rolls underneath some rose bushes. “Do we have enough?”

“Ow!”

“I think so,” answers Chara.

“Ow!”

“Asriel found a really good place next to the orange flowers.”

“Ow!”

“Is that why your horns look like baby carrots?” Aofil stifles a giggle as they imagine Asriel having a head of lettuce with his two carrots. “I know!” In their exclaim they tug at a burr a bit too hard, and rip with it a few strands of golden hair. Asgore flinches, but not enough for his children to notice. “When Chara and I go and give mom the snails, you can be outside the kitchen window and then we can point and say that we found some wild carrots too.”

“Then I can jump up and surprise her!” Asriel continues as he also tugs a bit too hard in his excitement. Again, Asgore keeps quiet through nothing but his iron will.

But it’s rusting pretty bad at the moment.

Chara jumps down from Asgore’s leg, and in their hurry they bring with them a burr and some more strands of golden hair that they flick off without looking. They rush the bucket, and pick it up with both hands. “Then let’s go!”

Asgore watches through watery eyes his shimmering and distorted children running away with a hand each on the snail bucket to help carry it. Once he’s sure they’re out of hearing range he stuffs his mouth with his arm.

And then screams.

“Mom!”

Frisk freezes with their hands deep inside their bowl kneading. They snap their head at Toriel, who calmly waves for them to relax. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you hidden.” She takes a large, square patterned cloth, and nods for Frisk to crawl into the lower cupboard. “Can you knead a for a minute more while you’re hiding, child?” she asks with the cloth laid over the opened flaps of the cupboard. Frisk nods, and Toriel lets the cloth hang down.

Completely suspicious, but it’ll have to do. 

Frisk is careful kneading as to not have the cloth fall down. They sit with their legs crossed with the bowl inside, and with their neck bent to the side. It’s a bit tense, actually. Adventurous tense. Hide and seek, but their siblings don’t even know that they’re playing! It has Frisk giggling, even if they feel a bit bad for not involving the rest. They’ll make it up to them though by kneading this dough as best as they can.

Toriel’s eyes glance down at the shaking cupboard. The dough might become a bit too dry if Frisk keeps kneading that hard, but it should be fine with some reconstitution afterwards if that happens. She turns her head back towards the living room as Aofil and Chara come sprinting in with a lidded snail bucket carried between them. “We found these,” they say softly to not produce any echo that might wake up Frisk. 

“Is it enough?” wonders Aofil. “We could get more.”

“Do you want some carrots too?” Chara adds, causing the two twins’ cheeks to inflate as they grab their mouths to hold their laughter in. They cast knowing glances at each other, which only serves to worsen their clumsy chuckle containment.

Toriel’s eyes narrow playfully. “Carrots?” she asks as she takes the bucket handed to her by her snickering children. “I don’t remember us planting any carrots for this season.”

“They’re growing behind you.”

“Oh?” Toriel turns her head around. Her lips morph into a very pleased smile as she scoffs in surprise. “Well, well, well,” she says as she places the bucket up on the counter. She puts her fingers up as she pretends to think. “Looks like we have some carrots growing after all.”

The carrots poking up from just outside the kitchen window begins gently bouncing up and down.

“Maybe perhaps I can find a use for them in the pie,” she says after a shrug while reaching her hand out to pick them. The carrots must be really fresh if they’re bouncing and giggling like that.

Frisk is...unsure...about what is happening.

Carrots?

What?

Through the cloth they can still see Aofil and Chara though, so they gotta stay hidden for now.

They’ll ask mom afterwards.

“Hoot!” Asriel exclaims as he jumps up and pushes his nose against Toriel’s finger. “It’s just me, mom!”

Toriel pretends to flinch back in surprise. “Asriel? When did you become a vegetable?”

“It’s just one of those orange flowers,” he explains while brushing the pollen off from his hair and horns. Not enough to free him from a bath after breakfast, but enough so that he’s not gonna make a mess when he gets inside. “I’ll come inside and wash it off so that I don’t scare Frisk.”

Scare Frisk?

From Asriel?

“Did the cupboard just laugh?”

Oh no!

“No, Aofil,” Toriel says. “The hinges just need to be oiled a bit.” She grabs one of the flaps and holds it for long enough for Frisk to understand. She gives it a slight tug, and Frisk laughs the same again from inside. “See? I’ll ask your father to fix it later today.”

Mom is the best!

She saved the surprise!

“Go finish wrapping up your presents now, children, but be quiet, remember.”

Chara and Aofil nod in unison just like how only they can as they hush each other and tip-toe back to the dining table. Had it not been for their horns Toriel would have such trouble telling them apart. Until one of them opens their mouth, that is. Couldn’t be less of a pair of twins when they start speaking. Toriel is luckier still with the two choosing different colors for their respective sweaters. Not only because Chara wanted the same as Asriel, but that Aofil also chose some purple to their sweater. Same with Frisk. Toriel would’ve painted the entire house purple if she could.

Asgore’s more partial to the green, of course. Same color as his fingers, after all. Yellow like his beard to boot. Frisk’s blue Toriel’s yet to find something specific for. However, perhaps that’s just as well. It is just as well, of course, because it’s Toriel’s child, but maybe having something without meaning gives the most meaning.

“Are they gone now?” the cupboard whispers almost inaudible from the loud rattling of paper and tape from the living room. Shouldn’t be any danger hearing Frisk and Toriel talking with that going on right next to the others.

“Yes, Frisk,” Toriel answers as she removes the shielding cloth. She pats Frisk’s muzzle with her own. “You can come out now.”

“What was that about carrots?”

“Just your brother.”

Just their...brother?

“Is Asriel a carrot?” Frisk inquires very inquisitively with their nose wrinkled like their eyes, and their head tilted to the side.

“Just some pollen on his horns.”

Ah, right.

That makes...sense...

Also...

“I’ve finished kneading.”

Toriel takes the bowl to inspect the dough. Looks like Frisk calmed down a bit. It doesn’t look like it needs some reconstitution, which is good. She flours the countertop as Frisk crawls out of the cupboard. “Here.” She hands Frisk a rolling pin. “You know how big it should be, right?”

“I do,” Frisk says with a proud smile. “A bit larger than the pie form so that you can make those swirls over the lid.”

Next time Frisk will be able to make the pie all on their own. Oh, the pride and joy surging through Toriel at the moment. It almost melts her. She leans over and gives a motherly peck on Frisk’ brown cheek. “My sweet and precious Frisk.” She smiles as she caresses the gentle fur on her child. “How I love you so with all of my soul.”

“And Aofil?”

“Yes.”

“And Chara?”

“Yes.”

“And Asriel?”

“Yes.”

“And dad?”

“Eh...”

Frisk’s brow furrows in an angry sneer, and they lean their head back to show it up to their mother.

“I’m kidding,” Toriel defends with a snicker. She’s a bit taken back by the hard scowl from Frisk. Deservedly so. “Of course I love your father. He is my everything. I wouldn’t be queen without him, and I wouldn’t have all four of you without him. For that I am forever grateful that he decided to choose me. He could have chosen any princess that he would have liked, but instead he chose to fall in love with a simple bar maiden.”

The rolling pin is wrung between Frisk’s uncomfortable hands. “...That’s not how you talked about him yesterday on the phone.”

So grown up you are, Frisk. So wise, and so gentle with your care for others. Your soul for everyone, with not even your mom being allowed to do injustice in your eyes. You’ll grow up to be a great monster. An even greater monster, because you’re already one.

“Because he won’t let me, Frisk.” Toriel beckons for her troubled child to come into her embrace. They do so after second’s hesitation, and Toriel sinks down on her knees so that Frisk can sit in her lap. “He loves me too much,” she explains while she strokes her child’s hair, being extra careful as to not disturb the precious cowlick. “I’ve always been a queen to him, and thus, he won’t let me describe myself as ‘simple’. We’re not worthy of the other, but we’ll never admit that we know that the other feels that too. Because in our eyes, the other one is something we never thought we would have as a soul mate. Someone that makes our soul faint every single time we see that Boss Monster when we wake up next to each other, even after so many years.”

Frisk burrows themselves deeper, causing worry from Toriel for a second. Gingerly, she tilts the white and long chin up. What greets her makes her heart drop through the ground. “Oh, Frisk...” She brushes away the tears forming in her child’s eyes. “Did you think I was angry at him?”

“N-no?”

No? But…

Wait…

White and long chin? Frisk’s?

Toriel looks down at her apron.

Stained with flour, and with the shape of a Boss Monster child’s face on it.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” Toriel says hurriedly as she swipes the rest of the flour away from Frisk’s face. “Oh, you have some in your eyes too.”

“Apologizing to the pie, are we?”

Frisk dives underneath Toriel’s apron.

Dad! No! Not again!

“Do you have the herbs?” Toriel asks warmly to her husband. He flashes them between his fingers with a nod. “Then put the next to the bucket, please.” Asgore does so, and turns around to head back into the living room.

“One more thing.” Toriel stops him in the door frame. “I love you, Gorey,” she says for Frisk to hear. “With all of my soul.”

“And I do too, Tori,” he returns after rubbing his muzzle against hers. “My soul belongs to you for eternity.”

“And mine for you, my lovingly fluffbun.”

Asgore throws his eyes down at Frisk cooped up inside Toriel’s apron. “And a fifth fluffy bun in the oven?”

A...fifth?

Toriel gives Asgore another kiss to quiet him up. “Go make sure Aofil or the others don’t get stuck in the tape, please.”

“I know only magic, not miracles,” comes a playful retort.

“Then today’s the day to learn some.”

“A fifth miracle?” he again hints before getting the hint himself from Toriel nodding down at Frisk. “I’ll let you continue with your pie then, Tori.”

Once Asgore has left the kitchen, Toriel pats on Frisk’s back through her apron. “It’s safe now.” Frisk doesn’t leave the comfort of her apron though, and instead shoves their head up through the neck-hole. Their ears fall down on the outside of the apron while the rest of their head stays inside.

“Am I gonna have a little sibling?” The weight of the words thump against Toriel’s chest through Frisk’s chin as they asks their questions with eyes widened. “Is that what dad meant with a fifth miracle?”

“You don’t want to be the youngest?” Toriel asks back while brushing away some of Frisk’s fringe from their flour-ridden muzzle. To that, Frisk looks down and to the side. Their lips curl, but they don’t know how much they want to curl them, or if they really should. “You don’t like being the youngest?” Toriel rephrases while gently brushing off the flour from Frisk’s nose lest they sneeze.

“I don’t really feel like the youngest.”

You certainly don’t act like the youngest, child.

“And I love Asriel, Chara, and Aofil. It’s just that...” They sigh as they fail to find their words, something rather unusual for them, to be honest.

“You want more siblings to love?” Toriel hazards as a guess. The conflicted expression again blossoming on Frisk tells more than they ever could with words. Their cowlick also lowers, which is a surefire way of reading that they’re at odds with themselves. “And you’re worried you might not be able to love your current siblings as much?”

Frisk blinks for a couple of second before nodding. Nodding hard.

“Only you can be worried about something like that, child.” Toriel chuckles to herself. Yes indeed, only Frisk could ever be worried about running out of love to give to others. “But I know that you’ll find the hope to love your little sibling just as much as you love the others.”

The wide eyes return with full strength. With full love. Full hope!

Toriel takes Frisk’s hand in hers. She moves it over her chest, and with her other hand, she gently closes Frisk’s eyes. “Feel my soul, child.”

Her mother’s aura is flush with tender. Once Frisk starts to feel it envelop them though, they sense that it is slightly stronger than usual. They felt it a bit before when they pressed themselves against Toriel’s back to hide that they weren’t sleeping from dad, but that was because mom was eager for Frisk’s birthday, right?

“Can you feel them?”

Wait…was it that?

Deep down. Deep down inside mom’s aura. In her soul. It’s so tiny, so fragile. Is it…

Frisk’s eyes snap open, and they look up to their mom who is smiling down at them with quivering eyes. “Your little sibling, Frisk. All of yours little sibling.”

Frisk...can’t…

“Happy birthday, Frisk.” Toriel pushes Frisk’s head against her chest. “Happy birthday, from both of us.”

They can’t believe it.

A-a-a-another sibling.

A small one.

It’s gonna be such a small one.

So cute.

And so…

Frisk...can’t…

And so…

They lunge their arms around their mother’s neck, forcing her to take support with a hand behind her. “Mom...” Frisk whispers in a choking cry. “I love you.”

“And I you too,” Toriel reminds.

“I love our little sibling.”

“And they you too. Do you want to tell the others after you’ve opened your presents? Give them something in return on your birthday?”

Frisk nods hard into their mom’s neck. “This is the best birthday gift I could ever get.” Toriel replies with a tender hand that she uses to pat Frisk’s head and ears. 

“I know they’ll all appreciate hearing that they’ll have another sibling from you.” She lets Frisk hang around her neck for another minute before she gingerly starts to coax them off. “You think you can stay pretend sleeping in your bed for a couple of minutes so that I can finish the pie for you? It’s already way past breakfast time for us now. I want you to be hungry for lunch too.”

With a final sniffle, Frisk dries their nose off. They duck out of Toriel’s apron, and brush themselves off before hanging up their own apron as closely to how it was before. They grab the bottom of their sweater to take it off as well, but are halted by Toriel. “They won’t notice, I promise. There’s not a lot of flour left on you.” She motions towards the kitchen window. “Jump out from here and I’ll open the window in the attic above your bedroom for you to sneak back in. You can shake yourself off outside if you want.”

Oh! Cool! Like a spy! But wait… “The attic? Shouldn’t I go around the waterwheel?” 

“And risk you peeking through the living room window and spoil your presents?” Toriel shakes her snickering head. “Also, we both know that you’ve been climbing up to the attic window from outside to open for the rest of your siblings, my dear child.”

Even without any flour on their face, Frisk turns completely pale.

“Old chests don’t open themselves like that.”

“M-m-magic?” Frisk tries to defend with their shoulders raised guiltily over their cheeks and ears. Their cowlick also comes down, revealing their lie further.

“And close themselves with half of the old tutus sticking out?”

“...”

“Don’t you worry, child,” Toriel offers with a disarming smile. “I’m not angry, but do tell your father and I next time you four want to play in the attic.”

Us five, she means?

“...Yes, mom. Sorry.”

Toriel lifts Frisk up. “I forgive you, young one.” She gives them one last peck on the cheek before lifting them out the window. Frisk hunkers down as they touch down on the grass, and move along the outside wall towards the bedroom.

Toriel leans her head back to finish up arranging the pie. She takes out the glass form and gently drapes the bottom layer of Frisk’s kneaded dough over it after rolling it out to its appropriate size. A handful of snails bathe in the filling, and get a quick stir around. She tastes it before pouring the filling inside the pie’s bottom. Toriel taps out some bubbles with her claw before letting it set, and arranges the herbs to float on the filling. The top layer of dough she holds slightly taut in front of her. She blows some hard air into its middle to give it a bulging shape. It’ll puff up from the steam inside, but it’s always good to help it on its way to make sure it bulges in the middle and not off-center.

Again she drapes the top layer over the glass form, and with the edges of the lower layer hanging over the form, she begins folding it to create an ornate seal along the rim of the pie. Finally, she taps her claw against the top layer to make some ventilation holes.

There, all done.

Frisk should be on the large tree branch stretching itself against the attic window now waiting to be let inside.

Toriel should do that now.

“Mom, look!” Aofil gestures over the dining table for their two other siblings to hold up their recently wrapped presents. Red, orange, and yellow flowers stick out from the green, blue, and purple ribbons respectively, tied down underneath with neat little bows. Beneath the ribbons are motifs of stamped snails, castles, and suns and moons, all shining in their glossed splendor from the lamp above. 

However, Toriel’s eyes find themselves tugged away from her children’s gifts. A terribly strong tug to have her look away, but if there’s anything that can do that…

She sighs a giggle.

It is Asgore’s horns being wrapped up just as neatly, with even more flowers and ribbon bows littered hanging from them. He sends over a sheepish smile as he moves his hands underneath the table, hiding something. Toriel doesn’t catch it though, since her eyes are too busy staring at the baby-blue paper squeezing at her husband’s large horns.

“The...um...children...” he begins to explain unconvincingly.

“The children?” Toriel challenges with an eyebrow raised and her mouth almost retreating into her skull as it curls back in disbelief. Asriel, Chara, and Aofil all fail to stifle their bursting giggles. “I know you, Asgore Dreemurr,” Toriel cautions jokingly with heavy emphasis on his last name. “I know that this is your concoction. Or cocooning, in this case.”

“There is enough paper left for the other presents,” he puts forth as his defense. “And...”

“Do you want your horns wrapped too?” asks Asriel. “With the snails?”

“Which color?” Chara adds while holding up the many differently colored spools of ribbons in their fuzzy hands.

“And which flower?” Aofil finishes while holding up a rainbow bouquet of flowers.

Toriel giggles, but turns her head away for a moment towards the child bedroom door down the hall. She murmurs on it for a bit before turning a smile back to the crowded dining table. “I’ll go check on Frisk firstly, if that’s alright with you.”

The three siblings freeze in terror, and slam their mouths shut while casting horrified looks at each other. “We forgot to be quiet again,” Aofil laments through their clamped teeth.

“Don’t fret,” Asgore comforts as kingly and warmly as he can to his children. “I’m sure Frisk is still fast asleep. Don’t you think so as well, Tori?”

She nods. “I do, but I’ll go and make sure, just in case.”

The collective three-way sigh from the Boss Monster children creates a whirling gust that throws scraps of wrapping paper and ribbons up in the air to come falling down like large papery snow. Chara catches one about to fall on the ground by poking their claw into it. “Ha!” They catch another too with their other hand, and presents the pierced paper present pieces proudly in the air.

“You do that, my dear,” says Asgore with a returning nod. “It gives me time to finish this for you.” He lifts up a flowery circle just above the table’s edge. Toriel only catches a quarter-circle of it, but she knows fully well what it is.

A flower halo.

God, she loves that king so much!

“Please do, Gorey.”

He winks confidently.

What is taking mom so long?

Frisk peers into the rather dusty window, but they see only dark on the other side. A very, very dusty dark with no mom inside. They sit up on the roof again, massaging the bends of their knees to rub away the pain from having hung from them just now. They flatten their ears having rolled up as they bent their hanging torso up. 

They turn around to lean their legs over the edge of the angled roof, and stare over the purple city below.

Home.

Home is in Home.

Buildings stretching far beyond, with the purple darkening the further away the buildings are, just how they are on any other day. Today being Frisk’s birthday isn’t a special day for Home, and they like that. The monsters in Home all have their own special days that Frisk doesn’t know about, so why should all of them be celebrating Frisk’s? Today is just a normal day for every monsters walking around in the cobbled streets, and that is perfectly fine for them to do. Frisk is glad that it is a normal day for them, because in a way it makes their own day just a bit more special. Or maybe not, come to think of it? There must be at least a few of them that share the same birthday as Frisk. Cool! Special together! Maybe they can spot some from up here? Perhaps they too are sitting on their roof waiting for their mother to let them sneak back in and pretend sleeping?

Frisk puts their circled fingers over their narrowed eyes as they try and zoom in on the monsters far below the hill their house stands upon. Even as they try and adjust their hands, nothing happens, and they let out a sigh.

Dang, they wanted to wave to one.

Oh well, Frisk has five other days to try and spot someone who shares a birthday with their family.

Soon six.

They squeal with glee. “Psst! Hey, Home,” they whisper to the city below. They pause though before they can share their secret. It would be unfair to their siblings if they told the city before they told them. “I’ll tell you later,” they promise with a wink to the flowing tide of monsters starting their days.

But while the monsters might blend together into a river similar to that which runs beside the house Frisk sitting on, the city itself is plenty visible. Buildings of all shapes and sizes. Round, square, some even triangular. Mostly variants of square though, with the important buildings being round. 

Their house isn’t round, even if it’s the home of the Royal Family. Frisk should asks mom about it when she brings them inside the attic window, but they’re pretty sure what she’ll answer.

“It’s because we don’t deserve being the king and queen,” Frisk mimics with their eyes flickering like mom does. “We’re not more important than the other monsters. It’s just a title for your father and I.”

The waterwheel’s round though.

It’s important for when mom wants to make her own flour, and just as important for when dad wants to water his garden.

“The flowers like it when the water’s been blended a bit,” is his go-to explanation why he takes the water from behind the waterwheel instead of in front of it. “That way there is some carbonation to it. You like your fizzy water, right Frisk?”

That they do.

“So does the plants. It’s not as much as in the bottles we buy, but the plants are satisfied with less. Compared to a certain Boss Monster I know and love.”

Frisk pouts at the memory.

It’s not their fault that they like fizzy water!

It’s Chara’s! And Aofil’s!

Because they always give theirs to Frisk because they like it so much and…

Frisk’s pout deepens, and they huff for no one else to hear but themselves. They cross their arms, and kick both legs up before letting their heels swing back down and hit the underside of the roof’s overhanging lip.

Dad’s lying though about the fizzy water.

Frisk knows that.

Because they’ve tasted the water from before and after the waterwheel. There’s no fizzy to it! However, the water after the wheel tastes better than how it does before. That revelation prompted immediate investigation from Aofil and their curiosity. The waterwheel did indeed do something then besides making the water fizzy, but what exactly?

Chara suggested an expedition to follow the river upstream into the Crystal Cavern. Asriel was a bit hesitant at that, but he got around to it once Frisk promised that they would use flashlights so that they could see.

That wasn’t necessary though.

Because Asriel could do magic!

Fire magic!

Frisk can only do healing magic for now, and Aofil and Chara can only conjure small red daggers, and those don’t give out a lot of light. Asriel’s fire did, and still do. Very good for when they all want to stay up later and finish reading a book together. Maybe he’ll help mom to cook the pie today too! Frisk has never tasted a pie that Asriel’s baked with his magic.

They’ll ask mom about it once she gets up here.

“Um...Gorey?” Toriel whispers underneath her husband’s ear with some slight embarrassment to her voice. “Where is the key to the attic?”

“I thought you had it last,” he whispers in return.

“Y-yes...that’s the thing...”

“Oh...”

Frisk lies down with their arms moving over and behind their head for comfort. They stare up at the rocky ceiling far, far above, and drag a long inhale through their nose. Something is telling them that they might be up here for a while. There’s no snail pie smell coming from below, for a starter.

They roll their head over to where the river runs before the waterwheel that’s happily churning along at the side of the house, up and below the wooden bridge, and finally sneaking in through the trees and beyond. Even to this day, Frisk can still follow with their eyes how they and their siblings walked through the trees. Them and Chara on one side of the river, and Aofil and Asriel on the other. There weren’t any snails to pick, so the two didn’t have to stop each fifth step to ask if they should bring some home to mom.

Frisk likes snails, yes, but not so much as Aofil and Asriel do. Why though? Is it because both their names start with an ‘A’? If so, then why isn’t their dad, Asgore, who also starts with an ‘A’, so in love with snails too? Well, he is, but in comparison to Asriel, he is not. Maybe it is because he is too much in love with mom?

Frisk sighs again, which a passing breeze picks up and carries over Home.

Guess that’s gonna be a mystery they’ll never be able to solve.

Luckily they managed to solve the waterwheel mystery though. Not really because they found anything upstream from their house. The river ducked underneath the rocks ten or so minutes into the forest which was a bit of a disappointment. Especially for Asriel who was so excited to use his magic to lead the way.

Once they all came back though, they spotted their mom filling two buckets from the hopper next to the waterwheel. They all hid at the forest’s edge, peering through the bushes and from behind the trunk of the trees to see what she was doing. Asriel found a bush with white berries, and Aofil and Chara found some trees that were the same colors as their fur, which they hid behind to blend in. Frisk found an older tree with a darker bark which were their own color.

Playing hide and seek became much more difficult after that day. Especially when the leafs turned more red so that Chara and Aofil’s hair would blend in even more!

Frisk’ cowlick sways like a thin twig though, which helps them a lot.

And Asriel’s found so many white bushes and white flower patches that it’s impossible to guess which way he’s gone.

And that was where mom was going to with her buckets filled with some form of crystal powder. Her kids were following her closely, but she never caught wind of them. They were all so confused. What was she going to do with the buckets?

Turns out she went around the garden pouring the contents over the flowers that looked a bit sick and wilted. The small ones too, and the ones that didn’t have as much color to them as the rest of the patch. All the while humming with a smile on her lips.

The four siblings traded confused glances, longer and longer for each time Toriel stopped and poured on another lesser patch she found. She was very thorough. Even if there was just a single, only somewhat, pale flower several steps into the patch, she took those steps carefully as to not disturb any other flowers, and gave the flower some of the crystal powder.

Even with Aofil’s curiosity they couldn’t figure anything out. Toriel’s always said that the garden is Asgore’s and that he alone is responsible for it. 

They discussed with hushed voices while huddled together as to why she did this. And why she hadn’t told them about it. The siblings’ discussion was deep and very focused.

Perhaps a bit too deep.

And perhaps a bit too focused.

Because next thing they knew, they were covered in a cloud of crystal powder.

They shot upright from their squatted forms, limbs flailing in unison, almost like a Boss Monster explosion! Toriel rugged back, startled by the sound and the panicked dance of her children.

Wait…

Her children?

“What are you doing here?” she spurted out while trying to hide her buckets behind her back. “Shouldn’t you be...” Her startled demeanor turned into a stern one. “Shouldn’t you be inside studying?”

But she was no match for the four pair of powder-covered eyes looking through her and on the buckets behind her. She wavered, and sighed in defeat. “Don’t tell your father, please.” She beckoned for them to come out of the forest. “Come here, let’s clean you up.”

There was a quiet walk to the river, with Toriel carrying the buckets in her bosom, and her four glimmering children walking behind her in a shimmering line as the powder began falling off them. There was a line of thicker grass where they walked a week or so afterwards. Once at the bridge, Toriel helped her young out of their sparkling sweaters, and into the river.

The water was cold that day.

Frisk shivers at the memory.

They didn’t have time to ask their mom for the answer though, because she gave it up willingly.

“Don’t tell your father about this,” she prefaced again before dragging a weary sigh. “You know the castle him and I lived in before?”

“Jarasevo?” said Chara as they ran their hands up and down their opposite arms to keep warmth.

“The garden there was like nothing anyone could ever imagine. Your father loves gardening, almost as much as he loves you four and me. The plants here are...missing...something they had in Jarasevo, and because of that, they don’t grow as well.”

“But they grow so much here!” Aofil protested as they climbed out of the river to dry themselves off. “Is it because of what you’re pouring on them?”

“It is mostly your father’s work,” Toriel continued as she began drying off Aofil with her robe. “But even with his magic there is still some spots that he misses, so I help him with that. I don’t want to tell him because I still want him to have his garden. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, but I would, so I keep that a secret from him.” She let her eyes run over her four children in various state of cleanliness and wetness. “Can you too?”

And from that day on, Asriel, Chara, Aofil, and Frisk, have all helped with topping off the garden along with their mom. Dad’s surely noticed by now, but he doesn’t mention it. 

It’s a secret to everyone!

“Are you here, Frisk?”

They lay down on their stomach and peek over the roof’s edge. “I’m up here on the roof, mom.”

Toriel looks up from having looked down and to the side. “The roof, child?” she asks, but more chastises, in her own special motherly worried way. She shakes her head to try and get some rushing thoughts out of her head. “Nevermind. Would you come down, please?”

“How?”

Oh that is the wrong question to be asking in this moment now, young one. Toriel almost gets vertigo from all the wrong answers popping off in her head. She again shakes her head, this time rougher to really make the thoughts go away! “Give me your feet.”

Frisk turns around and eases their legs down. They feel their mother’s large and furry hands give ground for their feet.

“Now ease yourself down while holding onto the roof.”

Frisk does so, almost like an elevator. Once their arms are fully stretched they come face to face with Toriel leaning out the window. She leans her head forwards while tilting it to the side. “Grab my horn.”

Frisk does so.

“And my other.”

And the other as well.

Toriel then retracts her arms into a cradle as she retreats back into the window. Frisk jumps off, and lands safely with a loud creaking sound. They freeze for a moment, and slowly tip-toe over to the ladder going down into the bedroom. Toriel follows along after having closed and locked the window.

“Mom?” Frisk asks as Toriel folds the ladder and hatch back up into the ceiling. “Can you ask Asriel to use his magic to bake the pie?”

Toriel’s thoughtfully narrowed brow is fortunately not visible to Frisk. “I...I’ll ask him,” she promises as she begins tucking in Frisk in their bed again. “Now pretend for just a few minutes. It is just the pie left now for me to bake, my child.”

“For Asriel to bake,” Frisk corrects.

“For Asriel to bake,” Toriel repeats before giving Frisk a kiss on their forehead. “I’ll see you in a little bit, monster mine.”

“Snoot,” Frisk bleats as they push their nose against the glistening white one of their mother’s.

“Hoot, my child.”

She closes the door gently.

Now...Asriel’s magic.

His fire. Toriel and Asgore’s magic that’s sprouted like a spring flower from his soul.

He’s not been in the brightest of mood about it lately, pardon the pun. Not since he accidentally singed Aofil on their arm. Not enough to make hurt, but enough that they reacted. While they took it with stride and joy that Asriel’s magic had become so strong, he didn’t as much. He was worried about not having control over it. He only tried to light the candle Aofil handed to him, and he almost burnt their hand in the process.

Toriel and Asgore had talked about it before. Even the toughest children get worried about their destructive magic, and with Asriel’s gentle soul, it’s like ice and fire. They’ve talked about it to him as parents, and as teachers, but he’s still reserved about it.

Maybe it is a good idea to let him bake the pie. It’s gonna need a lot of magic to get done quickly, and Toriel will be there to watch him bake it. If he goes all out, then he’ll know how strong his magic is, and thus he can control it.

Toriel nods to herself.

Yes, this is gonna be for the better for him.

“Asriel, child?” she asks softly as she gestures towards the kitchen. “Could you help me for a bit?”

“Us too?” Chara wonders while pointing to them and Aofil with an excited finger.

“Just Asriel for now,” Toriel gently informs to not disappoint, even if her words are set to. “I’ll need your help later to set the table.”

“For that we must clean it first,” Asgore adds. He leans out of his large chair and conjures a long and red trident in his hand that he uses to reach for the thrash can around the corner in the kitchen. With his tongue out the side of his mouth, he carefully balances it on one of his trident’s tips back to him. His proud smile lasts only for a second before Toriel clears her throat.

“We might need that, Asriel and I.”

In case Asriel drops the pie.

“...Right.”

Asgore moves the trashcan back with a rather deflated color to his trident. He dissipates it as he blows a thought through his lips. “Well, we can gather everything together and sort it so that it takes up the least amount of space.”

“...You sure you don’t need our help right now too, mom?” Aofil pleads with worry stretching their lips thinly. “Just something?”

“I’m sorry,” Toriel chuckles. “Frisk has asked for Asriel to help me with the pie, and...” She feels her son’s shoulder tensing underneath her gentle hand, and she squeezes it back reassuringly while keeping her smile wide for the rest. “And I see that you still have a present or two to finish wrapping.”

“And more to clean up,” Asgore finishes with a teasing laugh. “Alright now, the paper we put in a pile here, and the ribbon scraps here.”

Toriel gently coaxes Asriel into the kitchen all the while humming without care. It’s important that she shows that she’s relaxed and not at all afraid if Asriel’s to muster up his courage. Monsters shouldn’t be afraid of their magic, but some have more difficulty learning that than others. Be it because of the monster, or because of the magic. He’s gonna come out of this feeling much happier with himself, and that in turn will be felt doubly for Toriel and Asgore.

Not to mention his siblings.

There isn’t a number big enough for how many times more they’ll feel happy about this.

“Now, Asriel,” Toriel begins as she pushes him to fetch an apron for himself. She bends forward with her palms flat on her legs. “Frisk said something in their sleep that I need your help with. A birthday wish they have.”

Asriel’s nose bounces like a flicked metal spring as his head pops out of the apron’s neck-hole. “What is it?”

With oven mittens with the silhouette of Home sewn in, mimicking the view from the kitchen window, Toriel lifts down the unbaked snail pie to her son’s height. “They want you to bake it.”

Asriel’s hands clench and disappear behind his back as he drags a worried gasp. “M-me?” He takes a scared step back, and flinch when he almost hits his head on the countertop. “B-b-but...”

“Asriel,” Toriel addresses gently. “You don’t have to be afraid of your magic. I’ll make sure everything goes well.” She extends her mitten-covered hand towards her scared son. “I promise, nothing will go wrong. It’s just your own magic. You’ll learn.”

A scared sniffle echoes inside the kitchen.

“What if...”

“No ‘if’. I’m here, my child. Come now.”

Ten unruly fingers become visible from behind Asriel’s back. Fingers trying to knot themselves together anxiously, yet at the same time want to separate and be stiff with confidence.

“Do it for Frisk,” Toriel whispers.

And Asriel nods. “It’s their birthday,” he says to himself. His fingers begin to calm down, but not enough. He balls them into a pair of determined fists that he throws down. “If it is their birthday wish,” he huffs out to stiffen the rest of his body, “then I’ll do it.” He hardens his lips, and throws an even harder stare at the cold pie. He huffs again.

And again.

And again.

And...again…

“Take your time, Asriel.”

No.

No!

If he takes more time being afraid of himself Frisk might wake up!

He will not ruin the surprise just because he’s being a crybaby!

Asriel throws out his opened palms. “Give me.”

Toriel can only smile at her son’s beaming confidence. The same determined and stiffened upper lip as his father’s holding fast against his inner worries trying to make his lips quiver. His furrowed stare is filled with hope.

Toriel places the pie inside Asriel’s white hands, and he swallows as he feels the weight.

“Begin small,” she advises as she kneels down behind him, and with her hands laid on his shoulder with all the motherly weight she can give to comfort him. “Just to heat up the form.”

Asriel nods, and closes his eyes hard. His mouth begins bending in widely different shapes, and his arms begin to shake as well. Toriel reminds him that she’s there by caressing gently with her thumbs. It give Asriel courage, it gives him determination!

The kitchen succumbs to a soft and blurry orange hue. A round shadow is cast into the ceiling as small embers begin pooling underneath the pie’s glass form. The refraction from the glass has rounded, translucent shapes cascading across the surrounding wooden cupboards at a myriad of angles. Asriel’s breath deepens, but he holds himself strong against the memory of Aofil’s hurt expression when he gave too much fire for the candle.

“Try and push your fire more, Asriel.”

The embers quicken their dance until they whirl together into a brazen flame that stretches up the sides of the pie form, flicking at the dough crust as if savoring the taste. The orange hue becomes more prominent, almost dominant, and two small and curious beige muzzles peek around the door frame. Toriel motions for them to keep quiet and not disturb their brother, who is now struggling to keep the pie balanced in his quivering hands.

“You’re doing great,” she comforts. “Listen. The dough is sizzling against the form. You’re baking it, Asriel.”

But he’s too focused to answer.

“Can you do a bit more? To give the crust a golden-brown color that Frisk loves so much? To give that crunch that they always chew on with their mouth open?”

Time and time again Toriel’s tried to get that bad habit out of them, but she might as well try and convince Aofil and Chara’s hair to behave properly for all the good that does.

The orange now bleeds into the living room, filling it up like if the hearth was lit. It must be a spectacular sight from Home looking up at the beam of orange shooting out of the Royal House. Asriel’s magic now licks the entirety of the pie, filling the house with a familiar, yet still a bit different, smell of freshly baked pie seasoned with herbs and snails.

Inside the bedroom Frisk samples the smell with a deep breath. There’s a slightly more sweet hint to it than how mom usually does when she bakes, so it must be Asriel’s magic! They breath in again, this time focusing on the sweetness. It’s their brother’s cooking, and it smells super delicious!

Oooooooohhhhhh…

Now they’re getting so impatient!

“Ease off on the flames now, Asriel.” Toriel loosens her grip on Asriel’s shoulders to let him know through touch as well. “You just need to simmer the snails for a bit now.”

With a harsh gulp, Asriel tries to relax his hands, but…

But…

“You can do it.”

He looks at Aofil, who’s hands are clenched in anticipation.

“For Frisk.”

They’re happy. They’re excited. They’re not hurt, yet Asriel feels like his expelling more magic than he ever could. Maybe…

The hue lessens.

Maybe he can…

Calming down into a simmering glow as the embers return.

Maybe he can control it!

Toriel whiffs her hand towards Asriel over the pie. “Smell it.”

He does.

“I did that?” he asks with eyes widened.

“You did.” Toriel rewards her son with a gentle kiss on his head. “Thank you for helping me bake the pie, Asriel.” She takes the sizzling pie out of Asriel’s quivering hands. A couple of sparks jump out of his empty palms before he can stare at them.

“I did that...” he whispers as he closes and opens his palms. “I did that.” He looks to his siblings, who are both smiling ear to ear back at him. “I did that!”

The three jump into each other’s embrace, dancing around with their arms around their siblings necks, laughing with glee.

“That was so cool!”

“You’re amazing, Asriel!”

And all three’s cheeks are blooming with the same rosy color as they hug.

Toriel places the sizzling pie on the window sill. The wind should be enough to cool it down for when Frisk has finished opening their presents, and if not, then Toriel’s got some Nice Cream in the freezer.

Oh my, what a morning.

So much has happened, and the day hasn’t even started. Snails, flowers, magic, baking. An entire birthday’s full of activities before it has even started!

Well, fourth time this year now. Fifth one arriving for next year. Guess Toriel should get used to it by now.

Or not, so that she’s pleasantly surprised with each one.

“Well then.” Asgore makes himself heard through a rather kingly hawk from the depth of his throat. He stacks up the differently wrapped presents on each arm, with the freshly knitted flower halo dangling on his finger. He lifts it up, and gently drops it on Toriel’s bowing head. She looks up to find the circular rose bouncing very similar to Frisk’s cowlick, and her expression melts into playful sneer that she sends over to her sheepishly grinning husband. “Who wants to begin singing?”

The entire family looks at the king to lead, which he does after a shrug that has the presents bobbing as if on an incoming tsunami. He walks down the hallway with soft steps, and is followed behind by even softer steps. Once at the bedroom door he stops, and looks over his shoulder, being careful to not knock down any presents with his large and wrapped horns. “Are you sure I should take tone?”

No.

But he’ll have to anyway.

“Alright then.” He motions for Chara to put their hand on the handle before counting down.

All of the family hunkers down, even Frisk. They can feel the excitement through the door. It’s like it’s not even there at all!

Mom, dad, Chara, Asriel, Aofil, and their sibling with no name yet.

All radiating love which no door could hold isolated. 

All for Frisk.

“Three.”

And their soul radiates as well.

“Two.”

For their family.

“One...”

That they love so much.

“Happy birthday!”

An explosion of cheers rocks the house to its very foundation, by its very foundation, the family that lives in it. Frisk has barely time to open their pretend-closed eyes before they’re drowned in the hugs and congratulations of their siblings. They try to hug them all back, but they’re not given a single chance to move as the furry arms and sweaters of their best friends in the entire world squeezes tighter around them.

“Now you’re as old as us!” the siblings sing in unison as they roll around together in the bed laughing.

“Careful, children.”

Toriel’s caution falls on ears too busy flopping and knotting themselves into each other, and it’s not long before a beige leg slips off the edge of the lower bunk bed they’re all on. A startled bleat rings out from Aofil’s mouth at first, and is quickly followed by an equally startled symphony of equally high bleats from their siblings that they’re all dragged down unwillingly onto the floor where they all land in a pile of limbs and ears of various gradients of brown. 

Who’s arm belongs to who is impossible to discern even taking into account the colors.

“I know I shouldn’t have postponed washing the carpet,” Toriel sighs as she squats down to help unhook ear from horn, arm from foot, and other ear from other arm, and other arm from other foot, all the while her children are all laughing into the necks and sweaters of their siblings.

“Don’t think that would’ve done much to lessen the landing, dear.”

Asriel sneezes from Chara’s tail waggling on his nose, and Aofil is hard at work not doing the same from Frisk’s cowlick tickling between their nostrils. The strange expressions their face contorts into has Chara laughing harder, and their tail whipping more eagerly into Asriel’s face, which has him sneezing even harder. The sneeze has Frisk flinching, poking the inner rim of Aofil’s left nostril, and they succumb to their building sneeze.

Toriel looks over her shoulder for some assistance from her husband. Unfortunately, he can’t at the moment. “Hands and arms full with gifts, Tori.” But he offers a shrug if that’s to any help.

It isn’t. “For the record, I was more worried about splinters,” she informs her grinning husband as she returns to trying to gently tug away Frisk’s ear from Asriel’s horn. “You don’t feel any, children?”

“Nope!” they all answer together, prompting more giggling.

“It’s a good thing you slept on the lower bed today,” Aofil says while nodding to where, they think, the upper bed is. In practice, they nod towards their own tail, which they believe to be Chara’s.

“Don’t make me worry more,” Toriel chastises with love.

“They’ve fallen from worse,” comes a fatherly dismissal from the door frame which immediately after turns into fatherly regret as soon as his tongue stops as it realizes the massive mistake it just did. “...Or...so I’m...uh...guessing.” His eyes dart away as if trying to flee from his skull, but alas. He’s forced to face his wife’s pout and squinting eyes, which Asgore tries to deflect by moving the stacked gifts on his arms in front of him as a shield.

Can take responsibility of an entire monsterdom, but can’t take responsibility of his own children.

Why does Toriel love him so?

His warm chin and flowing beard lowering over her head like a warm towel reminds her. Reminds her oh so much.

But it doesn’t make her happier in the slightest. She’s not gonna let him win this one.

Can’t let it go to his head.

His golden, flowing head.

...Dammit.

“We’re still alive,” Asriel chimes in to help his father. “All four of us.”

Frisk drags a knowing smile at the word ‘four’. Oooooooh! He has no idea!

Yet.

“Don’t you dare defend your father over what he says.” Toriel parts the beard over her face so she can see, but doesn’t make any further attempt to remove Asgore from her. “He shouldn’t use his children to explain away his responsibilities.”

“Told you they had power of you, Tori,” Asgore whispers lovingly with his chin massaging the top of Toriel’s head with each word he lets fall on her like bright autumn leafs. “Power you will never have again.”

Toriel tugs playfully at her husband’s beard, and he jerks forwards with a pair of surprised eyes thrown open. “Don’t drop the gifts now, my Gorey.” She finally manages to untangle her children from each other, and they roll down on their backs giggling with their freed limbs spread out. She motions for them to sit up. “Isn’t that right?” she asks them with a hefty wink to her eye. She then nods behind her into the beard and towards her husband behind it. 

His eyes widen even more.

“Can I first take a step back and-”

“No!” his children shout before they throw themselves up on their feet and rush past their mom. They lunge onto Asgore with arms outstretched, gripping their arms around his stomach and torso. He stumbles back into the hallway with the bodies of his kids swinging around as he tries to find his balance. Toriel helps him find it by grabbing his hand, and dragging him into her. She joins her children in hugging him, and he gently goes down onto his knees as he embraces the entirety of his family.

“Still kept my balance.”

The top gift on his right arm, a round present with a purple bow with a yellow flower over sun and moon glossed paper falls down and bounce away as it lands. 

Then a square present with green ribbon, orange flower, and snail paper, falls down onto Aofil’s head.

Then the crystal structure book falls between Asriel’s arm and Asgore’s robe.

Then the rest of the presents hail down onto the Boss Monster family.

Asgore’s shoulder sink, and he sighs in defeat.

Toriel puts her muzzle on top of her husbands, leaning it down sideways. She looks up underneath her eyelashes at him, and inhales an affectionate sigh that she exhales over his white muzzle and golden beard like a summer’s breeze. “How are you supposed to hold up a kingdom if you can’t even hold up to your children hugging you?”

Her muzzle is again drowned in the warm and ticklish towel as Asgore runs his muzzle over hers similarly. “I’ll start by marrying the only Boss Monster that would be foolish enough to stand with me in my clumsily attempt.” He tenses his arms to push her even closer to him, and steals her lips before she can steal his.

“Mom? Dad?” Chara makes known by tugging at their parents’ ears. “We’re supposed to be celebrating Frisk.”

“Oh!” the two kissers realize as they crane their necks back. “Sorry,” they say bashfully before clearing their throats.

The house is again shook to its core, but by warm laughter from all of the Boss Monsters. They all come together for another hug, which feels like an eternity since last time. It’s been but a morning preparing for Frisk, but even that’s too long!

“Alright!” Aofil says as they scoop up as many presents as they can in their small arms. They only manage to carry a handful of Toriel’s size, but it’s a start. “Frisk, you don’t carry any of these. You need all of your energy to open them!”

Chara and Asriel agree with a unanimous and determined bleat. They too scoop up as many presents as they can on their stripy sweaters. Rushing down the hallway, they can barely see where they are going, and bump into each other halfway through the hallway. With legs dancing alone without the rest of their bodies, they swing back and forth, and somehow manage to stumble their way into the living room, where they both fall as they throw their carried presents onto the dining table.

Aofil helps the two up on their paws again, and the three then nod with stiffened grimaces as they run back for a second round of carrying.

Frisk takes their mother’s outstretched hand and walk along her towards the living room. They lift their arm for their siblings to duck underneath like they’re crossing underneath a checkpoint, and then swing it in sync with their mother once their siblings have passed.

“Raise the bridge again!” Aofil shouts with more presents in their unstable arms. They drop a present as they duck underneath Toriel and Frisk’s raised arms again, but it is saved by Chara picking it up with a swift kick.

“I know what it is,” they defend back at Toriel casting a narrowed pair of eyes to them. “It can handle a kick.”

Asriel passes through the armed gate without any worries.

“Might be better if you lower it for me,” Asgore guesses before taking a wide step over with the rest of his presents in his large and fuzzy arms. He arranges them on the dining table, and pulls out a chair for Frisk to sit on.

Toriel lifts them up on it, and ruffles their ear before she takes a seat for her own. “Now we begin the hardest part of all,” she informs with a serious expression that melts instantly into a snicker since everyone knows she does that on every single birthday. Not that it will stop her from doing it again and for every birthday that will take place underneath this roof! “Which gift do you want to open first, my child?”

“Mine!” Chara, Asriel, and Aofil shout at the same time while holding up a present each. Their eagerly agape mouths slam shut, and they tuck their presents underneath their arms as they presents their closed fists at each other.

“Rock! Paper! Scissors!”

Aofil, scissors.

Asriel, rock.

Chara, scissors.

Asriel hands the victorious package to Frisk while Chara and Aofil play out their second round.

Chara, paper.

Aofil, stone.

“Ha!” Aofil cheers, which has Chara shaking their confused head.

“What?” they ask as their ears settle again against their cheeks. “You lost.”

“The best for last,” Aofil says in triumph with their tongue playfully outstretched and their present balancing on a claw. 

For about a second.

Then Aofil almost bits their tongue when their present begins to fall off their finger.

“Just like dad,” Chara teases with their own tongue outstretched.

Frisk waits patiently for their siblings to finish squabbling before they begin opening Asriel’s present. They could watch Chara and Aofil tease each other for hours, but for now they have presents to open up.

Asriel’s fists ball underneath his white cheeks, and his mouth opens blissfully as his eyes begin to shimmer with excitement as Frisk unties the red ribbon after having shaken it a bit next to their ear, to Toriel slight dismay, which fades away as Asgore nods to her to let it go. They run their claw around the rim of the snail paper, and fold it away to expose the gift within.

A tail brush. Specifically for slimmer tails.

“Yours is longer than ours, so I bought one that works better for you,” Asriel explains as Frisk holds it up to inspect it. “This one is gentler on your tail since you have different fur leading up to your tip. You can borrow ours for the tip of your tail, but I’ve seen how it kinda hurts when you brush the rest of it with that kind of brush, and-”

His explanation is interrupted by his teary eyed sibling throwing their arms around him. He hugs them back. “Do you like it?”

They nod. “Yes. Thank you, Asriel.”

Frisk has never dared to ask for another brush. They didn’t want to make themselves special. They didn’t want to make the others jealous of their tail. Why should Frisk have a special brush if the others didn’t need one?

Aofil and Chara trade worried looks, which Toriel is keen to pick up on. “Frisk is happy,” she says gently in regards to the tears beginning to form in Frisk’s eyes.

The two siblings trade another worried glance. “It’s not...that,” Chara says with a hand scratching the back of their head. “It’s more that...”

Frisk lifts their head up from Asriel’s shoulder. “What is it?” they ask equally worryingly. Why are the twins worried? Is it because of their presents?

Chara and Aofil hands their over at the same time to Frisk, who lets go of Asriel and takes the two handed gifts in either hand. Even with the different colors to the ribbons, flowers, and wrapping paper, the shape is a bit...similar.

Frisk shakes the gifts on either side of their head.

Sounds very similar too.

“Yeah...” Aofil sighs out. Their rather drained expression worsen as Frisk opens their and Chara’s present up.

Tail brushes. Specifically for slimmer tails.

They all…

“Sorry,” Chara mouths.

They all…

“We didn’t plan for this one to be the same,” Aofil adds. “We thought that we’d do one present we all thought about, and then one we came up with ourselves, but...” They throw a haphazard hand at their gift as they scoff a chuckle. “We did two same.”

Frisk drags a sob.

“Sorry,” Aofil also mouths.

No.

They all thought the same! 

Because...

They all wanted to help!

They’re all the best siblings a monster could ever have!

Frisk crawls up on the table, their long and slim tail whipping like a wheat in the wind as they stretch their arms around their siblings for a thankful hug. “Thank you,” they say with all their soul. “It’s the best presents, from all of you together!”

“Y-you’re not mad that we bought the same?” Chara stammers out.

Frisk’s cheek run against their siblings as they shake their head at what Aofil said. “No, I’m so happy you’re all the best siblings I could have.”

“Then...uh...happy birthday, Frisk!” Chara begins.

“Happy birthday!” Asriel and Aofil conclude together.

Frisk releases their siblings as they crawl back into their chair again.

“And here is from me,” Toriel informs after letting a couple of seconds pass for the energy to mellow itself out. She hands over a perfectly wrapped gift with a ribbon bow that’s so ornate Frisk has no idea where to even start to unravel it! “Happy birthday, my child.”

How many times have mom said that today? Must be like...almost a hundred? Or something?

Eh, Frisk is not gonna look a gift mom in the mouth.

But in the eyes as they thank her, of course.

“Thank you, mom.”

“You’re so welcome.”

Alright…

Now…

Where to begin?

Frisk tugs timidly at one of, what they think is, the loose ends of the ribbon, but it only tightens the knot. They let it go as if they meant to, and lift up the bow with their finger to see if…

No, not there either.

Uh…

Toriel hides an amused giggle behind the back of her hand. “You can just snip it off if you want, child.”

But Frisk doesn’t. It’s so nice, and if they can untie it they should be able to learn how it is tied. Asriel is leaning forward with his more sharp claw to help though, so Frisk will have to ask mom about the knot later. They hand the gift closer to him so that he can make a tear in the ribbon. With a quick flick of his claw he releases the present from its colorful binding. He catches the flower falling off it, and places it with the others inside the prepared vase.

Don’t want to waste this birthday bouquet.

There isn’t even a piece of tape on this present. All the corners of the paper have been folded into pockets of itself, so no tape is necessary. Easy to unfold too! Much easier than the ribbon. Frisk rolls out their mom’s present, which by the shape of it is a book.

“I woke up human,” they read from the title.

“The Librarby got it in just yesterday. It’s a very cute little fairy tale that I think you’ll enjoy reading for your siblings.” Toriel gives Frisk a peck on their forehead. “Happy birthday again, my child.”

“Thank you, mom!”

They balance the book on top of the three tail brushes from their siblings.

“My gift will arrive a bit later,” Asgore informs while casting a glance at the wall-mounted clock. “So is it okay if I pick one from here for now?”

The table nods.

“Alright then.” He closes his eyes and shoves his hand into the small pile of gifts. It emerges with a rounded package which he hands over. “Happy birthday, Frisk.”

“Thank you, dad!”

This must be the package Chara kicked in the hallway. The paper has a rip in it, which looks like to be from Chara’s toe. Frisk spins it around so that they don’t catch any more glimpses of what could be inside.

They undo the white ribbon and hand over the blue flower to Asriel who places it in the vase. The castle paper comes clean off after Frisk removes a piece of tape, and from inside a subtle green glow begins seeping out.

“It’s a little terrarium made out of Echo Flowers and Echo Crystals from Waterfall,” Aofil explains as they gently tap it with a claw to make it light up. “They’re arranged in the shape of Home how it looks from the lookout. Since the Echo Flowers and Echo Crystals have memory magic, I put my memory how Home looks from up here into it, and it formed as I thought very hard about it.” They mimic the process by clenching their fists and eyes hard with their head shaking slightly. They breathe out and in. “Kinda like that.”

“How nice,” says Toriel with a pat on Aofil’s head.

“And not only Home!” Asriel sticks his head inside the gift pile, his tail swinging around as he rummages around. “But Waterfall too!” he exclaims as he emerges from the pile with another rounded shape in his hand.

“And Hotland as well!” Chara adds after finding their rounded present too.

Toriel chokes a proud exhale. “Oh my.”

“Then I’ll go make Snowdin!” Frisk finishes as they jump up on their feet in their chair. “It’s from that shop in Home, right? And we’re gonna go past it later today, right?” They turn their sparkling look over to Toriel and Asgore. “Can I do it then, mom? Dad? Please?”

Asgore nods. “I’m sure we can make a slight detour for that since we’ll be walking around there a bit.” He winks at Aofil, who’s cheeks begin blushing.

“That we can,” Toriel agrees. “How about you open those two last presents then so that we can arrange them with Snowdin when we get home. We’ll save the rest of the presents for later.” She stands up. “I’ll go fetch the pie.”

Chara and Aofil jumps down from their chairs to help, but Frisk grabs them at their collars. They look back at Frisk, who’s looking at them with watery eyes. “Can I give them my present now?” they plead with their voice quivering.

“Of course you can, Frisk.” Toriel nods at her husband to follow with her instead into the kitchen, and he does so with a wide smile.

Once inside the kitchen though, he looks over his shoulder to his children huddling up around Frisk. His brow furrows for a moment, “A present from Frisk?” but it floats back up again as he shakes his proud head. “Can’t indulge themselves for one day without giving back, can they?”

“Well, technically it is a present from the two of us,” Toriel explains as she begins stacking plates in her hands. “If that makes you feel better.”

“The two of us?” His mighty brow furrows again, but just as before, it quickly shoots up.

However, it doesn’t stop.

It goes up.

And up.

And up.

Until his entire forehead’s wrinkled and hidden underneath his yellow hair. His mouth does the opposite, and moves downwards until it is almost unhinged.

Toriel knows the look Asgore is giving her now.

She’s seen it four times before.

Maybe it would be a good idea for her to put down the plates before he-

“Do you...”

Yes, she should.

With all six plates secured the furthest from the countertop’s edge as possible, Toriel takes a solemn breath. “I feel them, Gorey.”

And Frisk does too. “We’re getting another sibling.”

A quiet moment falls upon the house. Stunned, thoughtful. An unbelievable silence that the entire world can hear.

Husband staring in overwhelming joy. “You do?”

Siblings staring in overwhelming excitement. “We are?”

Two slow nods.

And then hugging.

Asgore’s large and sturdy arms flow underneath Toriel’s shoulder. He picks her up so gently that not even the air around her makes any resistance for his show of affection. He lets her fall into the security of his torso and beard, where he nestles her in with all the care he can summon. Where her, and their new child, could never be hurt. Where he will protect them for all eternity. Where he can make sure they’ll never meet any dangers!

“I love you so much, Tori!”

She laughs with his voice choked with emotions, but hers waver as well.

Because she does too!

“I love you so much, Gorey!”

She never wants to leave his warmth. With his arms around her, and his soul burning with love underneath his chest, all for her. How is she so lucky to have him? The children they have together? The one that’s on its way to join their wonderful family?

Asgore leans his nose down for her, and she meets it. She locks her lips onto his.

And she never wants to let go ever again.

“Wooow.”

That’s all Asriel can say, really.

He’s trying to have it all sink in. It’s not any easier despite it being the...um...fourth time now. Three, technically, since he didn’t know that he’d get two little siblings the first time around.

“Wooow,” Aofil and Chara repeats in a similar deep exhale.

The four children lie flat on their backs on the floor with their horns touching in a circle. Aofil to Frisk, to Chara, to Asriel, to Aofil again.

“I wonder what fur they will have.”

“Me too!”

“I want them to be white, like Asriel’s.”

“Maybe they’ll be dark-brown? Since Asriel is the oldest, and he’s white. Then me and Chara, and then you, Frisk.”

“...I’ve never thought about that before.”

“What about their horns?”

The siblings touch their own at the same time, like a drilled salute.

“Dark-brown fur with white horns would be really cool.”

They all nod.

“Maybe they’ll have a long tail too!”

“An even longer than Frisk’s!”

“Then it’s good that we have three brushes for that! Frisk can use one, and our new sibling will have to use two!”

A joint giggle has the siblings’ horns tapping at each other.

“I hope they like to catch snails.”

“I hope they like to catch butterflies.”

“I hope they like to catch fireflies.”

“I hope they like to catch me.”

Asriel turns their head over to Frisk. “Catch me?”

“If you can!” Frisk pokes at Asriel’s nose. “Snoot tag! You’re it!”

They scramble up on their paws and bolt for the door squealing with glee. They’re followed closely behind by Chara, but not Aofil.

Their toes get stuck in the living room carpet as they stand up, and they fall over flat on their stomach. A groaned bleat is pushed out of them from the impact.

Asriel taps at the beige and wrinkled nose as he passes by. “Tag, Aofil.”

“Not fair!” Aofil bleats again after him as he also hurries out the door. After some flailing and tugging, they manage to unhook their toe claw from the fabric of the carpet. It’s gonna serve them better outside since they can dig in their toes deeper into the gravel and grass and get better grip in their turns, so this will be the first and only time they’re tagged today!

Long and silent minutes pass by in the quiet house. Left inside are now just Toriel and Asgore, sitting together on the kitchen floor leaning into each other as much as they can.

A wayward laughter from Chara tagging Asriel finds its way around the house and through the half opened kitchen window. Toriel opens her eyes slowly, and she puffs the back of her head against her husband’s chin. “I’ll go check on them outside.”

He gives her a kiss before he helps her stand up again. “You do that, my love. I’ll put on some tea in the meanwhile.”

A sigh passes through Toriel’s lips as she leans herself against the opened frame of the front door. She blinks, but she’s not awakened from this dreamy visage before her. Her four children laughing and playing together in the garden on this beautiful birthday morning. It’s real. It’s all so real, and it’s all so wonderful.

She could stand here for hours on end.

“Who’s it?” her husband wonders after a couple of minutes as he hands her a cup of freshly brewed Golden Flower tea which she takes in both her hands.

“I think Frisk is it,” she answers through another relaxed sigh.

“On their birthday?” Asgore shrugs before taking his first sip. He’s only allowed to drink with one hand, as his other one is sandwiched between his wife’s cheek and sighing shoulder. “Well, if there was any monster that would be happy to be it during their birthday, it would be Frisk.”

Toriel blows a kiss towards the playing Boss Monsters. “Happy birthday, my child.”

Asgore blows one as well. “Happy birthday, my child.”


	51. Cake and Muffin

“You wouldn’t mind if I took with me Aofil for a slight detour, Tori?”

Toriel turns her head over to her husband, the dangling flower in her halo following along half a second afterwards. “I don’t see why not.” She moves her eyes over her shoulder, to her laughing children playing in the wagon Asgore is dragging behind him. “Although you’ll have more difficulty convincing them that you only need Aofil.”

Frisk’s muzzle wrinkles back and forth as they try and discern who’s claw just booped them. Their brow furrows, wrinkling as much as their moldable nose can. Some of their fangs bare as they snarl in thought. With their head tilted back, they mutter to themselves.

“Chara?” is their guess, which they eagerly shoot over with an accusing finger pointed at Chara’s snickering visage. They shake their head, and Frisk’s finger droops in defeat.

“It was me,” Aofil reveals with a dastardly laugh. Even with their pretend deep voice theirs is still the most melodic one. Not as confident as Chara, nor as soft as Frisk, and certainly not as bleating as Asriel’s.

“It’s because of your curiosity,” Toriel’s explained many times over. “You’ve asked so many questions that the little falsetto at the end of you asking one has taken over completely. You’re always curious, so your voice is too, my child.”

The wagon bounces against a wayward rock in the road, almost sending the four children bleating over the red-painted edges. They stay inside by holding onto each other, but only barely. The rock apologizes before slinking away, and the four blinking Boss Monsters burst into a joint and relieved laughter.

Next up in turn to get booped is Asriel, who closes his eyes while he tenses his white muzzle. His closed eyes toughen up as he feels a...dull...claw touch his nose, and he nods as he thinks. “Hm...” He drums his fingers on his legs as he tilts his head back like Frisk did before throwing his own accusing claw.

“Aofil again!”

They shake their head.

Frisk boops Asriel victoriously. “It was me this time.”

The Boss Monster parents smile at their four children playing. No one could ever guess that one of them is having their birthday today. Nor could anyone ever. They’re always equal to each other, even more so with them all being the same age again. Just another day of being siblings, and it being the best day since yesterday. Toriel and Asgore are proud. Proud as only parents can be. Proud of their kids, and proud of their significant other for being there. The two halves that have made such beautifully varied wholes.

“So how do you plan to convince them?” Toriel pries curiously with a teasing wink of her eyebrows. “I’m sure Aofil will want to be there when Frisk makes the memory terrarium of Snowdin.”

“Could you save that one for last so Aofil and I can meet up?” Asgore asks back while motioning over the silhouette of Home to his wife. He draws with his finger where he intends to go with Aofil, more to the right of the city rather than left where the Echo Shop is. “I’ll head straight to the Spider Cafe with them, pick up the cake, and then we’ll take a shortcut through the Fountain and be with you when you get to the Echo Shop.”

That all sounds good to Toriel, but there’s still something that she’d want to know. “Do you need them to read the road signs, prince?” she pesters before rolling up a finger in Asgore’s beard to show that she was only jesting. “But in all honesty, my love, why do you need Aofil with you? Isn’t it better if they help me with carrying? The terrarium might be a bit too cumbersome to fit inside my basket.”

Asgore throws a look over his mighty shoulder to his kids playing with some pebbles they’ve scooped up, making small statues to see which one is the sturdiest and can withstand the rocky ride downhill into Home. “You know the little spider girl at the Spider Cafe, Tori?” He nods as subtly as he can to Aofil, who’s first statue falls apart instantly, prompting a drained scowl on their face which no one would feel anything else but melting adorableness to.

They’re up again at it immediately after though after an encouraging pat from Asriel.

“Yes,” Toriel replies while also looking behind her. “The one with the red dress and the black pigtails in her hair?”

Asgore angles his knowing smile to Toriel, who meets it with her mouth opened in realization.

It takes only a second for her motherly instincts to reveal it all to her, and she giggles with her hand failing to cover her mouth. “Well, well, well.” She turns forwards again as she inhales a deep and content sigh that she lets flutter towards Home. “A little spider girl for our Aofil.”

“Yup.”

“It’s a first for any of our children.” Toriel’s brow furrows in slight thought, which was inevitable. “Are you sure that they are...you know?”

“You were the one that pointed it out to me,” Asgore answers as he sways around another rock poking out of the road. The slithering motion has the somewhat stable statues standing on the wagon collapsing into a tiny lake of pebbles. Four pair of glaring eyes shoot all the huffed anger they can muster against his back, but it’s like a feather trying to knock down a boulder. They didn’t really mean it to begin with, to be honest, as they immediately after burst into giggling seeing the expressions of their siblings. They point and they laugh.

After catching their breath, they try and make even angrier and huffed expressions, but as before, it quickly devolves into laughing which has their stomachs hurting from the intensity of it. They collapse just like their statues, and whirl around while grasping their stomachs.

“I did?” Toriel perks while thinking about it. She doesn’t remember when she said something specifically about Aofil being in love. That she hasn’t noticed it is quite worrisome though. 

Her children keeping secrets from her?

That can’t do!

She’s their mother, she’s supposed to know everything about them.

“You told me that Aofil had the same look I had when I first saw you,” Asgore explains with a rolling motion of his hand. “Remember? When we visited the Spider Cafe a month or so ago for its anniversary?”

Toriel’s ears lift as she realizes. “Oh!” They come back down though as she challenges that notion with a pair of squinted eyes sent to correct her husband’s assumption. “I meant the way Aofil looked at the pastries. They’ve got your stomach, that’s what I meant.”

Asgore’s mouth hangs over for a couple of stunned seconds before his body loosens up and he shrugs without thinking, lifting up the front of the wagon in the process, and almost pouring out his children onto the ground. They all throws their arms up squealing in excitement though. 

Normally he only does that when mom isn’t around.

“I thought you meant how they looked at the spider girl.” Asgore chuckles, the warmth of it overcoming Toriel’s hard furrow back at the wagon which her husband almost spilled their children out of. “But it doesn’t really matter, since they pretty much confessed it earlier today after I’d met up with Gerson.”

“Concluded,” Toriel whispers through a titter all for herself.

“So I’m sure they want to meet up with the spider girl again,” Asgore hazards by the virtue of his fatherly instincts. They’ve seldom gone astray.

Although Toriel would certainly want to debate that.

Which is why Asgore isn’t bringing it up.

“Call me if it looks like Aofil wants to, well, spend a little more time with the spider.” Toriel motions over with her hand to another part of Home. “I can take the three to some other stores and let them gawk through the windows like they always do.”

“Sounds good.”

“But again,” Toriel reminds as she adjusts her picnic basket hanging from the bend of her arm, “it is the children that you will have a hard time convincing to pluck Aofil away from, my dear. It’s hard to convince a soul to let go of its parts, and the four are more bound together than even your powerful one, Gorey.” She puts her large and fuzzy white hand over her chest. “I can’t imagine how they’ll be with the fifth.

Asgore holds his hand over his wife’s for a long moment before he flicks at the flower hanging spryly over Toriel’s face. “I’m sure I can concoct something up.” He waggles his eyebrow playfully. “I convinced you to marry me, didn’t I?”

“Oh I only did it so I could teach you how to read road signs,” Toriel replies before bumping her nose against Asgore offering his. “Can’t have a prince wander confusingly around outside the castle. Gotta keep up a presence, even if I had to carry the entire weight of the castle on my shoulders.”

“And now I can take a child with me and explore Home.”

“Of course you can,” Toriel admits with another lovingly tender bounce against her husband’s muzzle. “You’ll have Aofil to read the signs for you, my forever prince.”

The downhill calms down as the purple border of Home begins to surround the Boss Monster family. Trees in various autumn colors give way to the bright purple cobble and brickwork carefully laid to make a home out of Home.

Through the crossing rivers of walking monsters flowing in and around each other to create a shimmering rainbow that molds and shifts by the plumage, scales, and furs of the monsters walking by. Waves come and go on this combined lake as different monster heights make ebb and flows as they’re either forced to duck underneath bricked arcs or jump up the stairs leading up to different levels of deep purple made gradient by the long shadows cast from the crystals hanging above the surrounding buildings.

Chara, Asriel, Aofil, and Frisk all stare with bated breaths to the many shapes and colors passing their red wagon by. Amused smiles both similar to theirs, and so widely different all they can do is gasp in surprise before smiling back, look down, and in a few cases up, to the exotic smiles. Asgore and Toriel patiently greet the monsters wishing them their warmest.

“King Asgore.”

“A pleasure.”

“Queen Toriel.”

“From me too.”

This amount of attention is always so engaging for the siblings to witness. They way their parents move effortlessly through the respect and well wishes they receive, only to give more back to each and every monster.

It has the four children crossing their legs as they sit in awe of their parents, whom so seldom expose their titles when it’s just with their family. In public though, the king and queen radiate with such warmth and love that it almost rivals what they give to their own kids.

“You think we’ll be doing the same when we grow up?” asks Aofil as they grips their ankles with their fuzzy hands. “When we’re all royals as adults?”

Their siblings shrug at the question.

“Maybe.”

“I think so.”

“I think so too.”

Frisk scratches their cheek with a careful claw. “The best way would be that mom and dad stay king and queen though, since they’re so good at it.”

They get a unanimous three-way agreement in the shape of wild nods that have six floppy ears swinging just as wildly. Without saying another word, they all decide to sit silent and watch their parents wave and bow like it’s second nature, stopping just short of hugging, since they have somewhere to go at the moment.

A somewhere that leads them to a rather empty crossroads where Asgore halts the wagon, and motions for his children to sit on a nearby bench while Toriel rummages out six snail sandwiches for the family to eat now that they’ve managed to get down the hill to Home. Chara and Frisk bite down hungrily, while Aofil and Asriel first nibble on a corner to try and guess which particular species of snail it is.

“It tastes like Waterfall snails,” Aofil guesses after swallowing. “What do you think, Asriel?”

He needs a few more round bites before he can make his guess. His chin and cheeks move in a circle wide enough for him to spread out the snails across his entire tongue and mouth, but not enough that he starts smacking his lips. He licks them though to get the last lingering taste, but it still doesn’t ring any bells for him. He’ll need a bit more. “I’ll have another bite,” he says before munching down on another corner. He slurps in a snail about to fall out of his sandwich, which luckily mom didn’t see.

Toriel and Asgore sit down on a bench opposite the small fountain shaped like a Froggit. “Do you want me to say anything to help?” Toriel offers before taking a bite out of her sandwich. Her mouth barely moves as she chews. She was very quick to take to soul the manners of being a Royal when she married Asgore, and she’s carried them with her with pride ever since. She’ll have to wait though for an answer since Asgore is already on his second bite, with Toriel halting his third one with her question. He patiently chews as he waits for Toriel to finish too.

With his mouth bouncing around like it’s the last food he’ll ever eat.

As usual.

“I think it might be best if you withheld mentioning anything about the window gazing from Aofil,” he begins after swallowing the last piece of lettuce stuck between his teeth. Asgore then points over to the right with his half-eaten sandwich. “The best plan would probably be if you call the children to continue the trip, and then when you almost round the corner I’ll call for Aofil to come and help me. If you’re already on your way somewhere I don’t think they would want to hold you up. They’ll be curious enough to what I want too if they don’t figure it out immediately.”

Toriel’s not really sure about the...intricacy...of Asgore’s plan, but the reasoning behind is adorable enough that she’s willing to look past that. She’s trusted him with worse, after all. With a nod, she leans onto his shoulder as she takes another bite of her food. “Before you leave though,” Toriel voices a bit concernedly after swallowing her bite. “I have something I must give you.” From the basket she produces a handkerchief for Asgore to use. “I almost laid my head on a piece of snail, Gorey,” she informs her mess of a husband without emotion.

Asgore makes a cleansing swipe so that Toriel can nuzzle herself deeper into his beard without the fear of staining her glistening white fur. She does so after giving him a peck on his cheek for a reward, and spills some crumbs on the beard she wanted to clean up after taking a third bite.

Asgore sighs out of his nose as he takes a bite himself.

What a mess of a wife he has.

“I think Waterfall too,” Asriel finally guesses after almost a minute of chewing on his second bite. Most of it was spent mulling on his other question though. “How come you made your guess so quickly, Aofil?”

Aofil puts their palm next to their cheek while they lift up Asriel’s ears with their other hand. “I saw the container mom used for the sandwiches.”

“No way!” Asriel throws his arms up, with his sandwich almost slipping out of his hands in his defeated gesture. “That’s...That’s cheating, Aofil!”

No, it’s not.

Because Asriel did it the last time!

“Told you Aofil cheated,” whispers Chara to Frisk, but loudly enough so that Aofil and Asriel can hear. Aofil’s muzzle pouts, but it only prompts an extended tongue from their twin.

The four siblings return to their sandwiches, muttering.

Then louder.

And louder.

And louder.

Until it’s the four of them bleating nonsense with each bite.

Toriel looks up at her husband through her eyelashes. “That’s your half, dear,” she says with all the love she can give.

But Asgore’s too busy with enjoying the rest of his sandwich made by his loving wife to hear what she said. “Of course, Tori,” he answers as default.

She chuckles at it all, content, and enjoys herself another mouthful of snail sandwich. She’s eating for two now again, after all. Then Toriel’s gonna close her eyes for a bit now that she has the chance. She’s walking for two as well. Just gonna drift away for a few minutes in her husband’s beard, as if resting on a golden cloud. 

Just for a few minutes.

Just…for...a...few…

Her nose instinctively burrows deeper into Asgore’s beard.

“We’re finished now!” Frisk exclaims as they hurry around the fountain with Chara and Asriel taking the other way around. Chara’s cheeks are too stuffed with the last of their food to say anything, but they nod in agreement when they reach their mom and dad with their siblings. “Where are we going next?”

Toriel brushes off some crumbs from her husband’s beard with the back of her white hand as she sits up. She’s not sure how long it’s been, but it’s been long enough that she feels rested. She gently jostles Asgore’s shoulder, but he’s already awake. He appreciates the thought though, and hands Toriel her weaved basket as he stands up. She takes it with a gentle kneel, and puts it alongside her clasped hand in front of her. “We’ll be taking a little walk, if that’s alright with you, my children. Your father will be picking up something he ordered very special from the Spider Cafe, and then we’ll meet with him at the Echo Shop.”

Aofil swallows.

Spider...Cafe?

They glance over to their father, who winks as subtly as he can. It’s as subtle as turning off the lamp in a brightly lit room though, and the rest of his children catch onto it.

“Is it a cake?” Asriel asks eagerly with his fists balled against his cheeks.

Spider cake.

Wait, hasn’t Aofil heard of that before?

The last birthday, right? The one they had with...Chara?

Ow, their head is hurting a bit. “Can I have some water?” they ask of their mother, who hands them a glass which she fills up from a jug with a couple of Golden Flower petals floating inside. It pushes the hurt away, and Aofil breathes out relaxed.

“Could be,” Asgore teases with another wink. It doesn’t look like Aofil has the courage to want to follow along on their own accord. Maybe they’ll think that if they ask, one of their siblings will want to follow too. Asgore nods to Toriel that the two should stick to the plan they discussed, and she breathes in to speak while she puts Aofil’s glass back into the basket.

“Stay close now, children,” she says before walking over to the fork in the road leading into a street flanked with large, purple buildings. “We don’t want to get lost amid the streets.”

Asgore waits until Toriel’s rounded the corner until…

“Oh, Aofil?” he shouts after his family. “Could I take you along with me, please?”

Chara, Asriel, and Frisk look at their sibling, who chuckles with their cheeks blossoming with bashfulness. They let go Asriel and Chara’s hands like they were made out of thorns, and run back to Asgore with their stung hands pressed against their burning cheeks.

Chara, Asriel, and Frisk look at each other, and then back at their sibling getting scooped up by their dad, and placed onto his shoulder. Aofil waves to their best friends, and they wave back with rather puzzled hands.

What just happened?

“Your father might need an extra pair of hands for the cake,” Toriel offers. She feigns her tongue slipping and spoiling that it was a cake, which should be enough for the three to get their mind tugged away from Aofil for the moment. She fakes a gasp, and puts her hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell your father I said that,” she whispers to her kids lifting their ears up for her.

“We won’t,” they promise together.

Toriel smiles as she nods once. “Good. The wagon is a bit too wobbly for a cake, so dad needs a pair of hands to hold it up. Why he chose Aofil I don’t know, but it could just as well have been any other of you. You’ll keep quiet about it though, since Aofil will probably feel a bit conflicted over knowing a secret that you three don’t. Can you do that for me?”

The combined slap from three Boss Monster ears hitting the rounded, furry cheeks echo out between the purple stone buildings. “We promise, mom!”

Toriel allows herself a victorious smile, but it is rather conflicted. She shouldn’t really be working her children like this, but she also knows the heartache from being in love without being able to make do with it. Oh, those weeks were the most painful she’s ever had in her life, and she’d never wish that upon anyone else, especially not one of her own soul and magic. The children will understand, they’re smart, and they love Aofil enough to forgive Toriel for her lie.

She’ll get them all some Nice Cream on the way.

It is Aofil Toriel’s still a bit worried about though. Hopefully they’ll be able to work up enough courage to not flee in terror when that spider pet comes out to...greet...them, but if even Chara bleats in childish terror then…

She looks around the corner to Aofil bobbing along above a pair of hedges, and she gives them a proud and motherly nod.

“Good luck, my child,” she whispers encouragingly. “Prove to yourself that you can handle this.”

Aofil ducks underneath an overpass with some interested monsters looking down while whispering amusingly. They pay it no mind.

With the thoughts popping around in their head they can’t afford to.

“D-dad?”

He can’t help but chuckle at his child’s shaking voice. Not against Aofil, but with them. Oh dear, oh dear. So much innocent worry and yet so much unconstrained eagerness battling for supremacy. Like two great shows of magic clashing together. It’s warms the very depths of Asgore’s soul, and he hugs Aofil between his hand and head.

“Aofil,” he addresses tenderly despite his booming voice. “My sweet and innocent Aofil. You remind me so of myself when I first met your mother. You must really fancy this spider girl.”

Aofil can’t say anything back, only tug and twist at their sweater while looking away. Their blossoming cheeks tell of their woes though, as well as their tail curling up into itself. Asgore stretches it out again, and puffs it up between his fingers. “You have nothing to worry about, my child,” he continues as he steps one foot behind him to let a monster crab past him in the narrow alley. “Nothing at all. The spider girl...” He looks up to Aofil glancing back at him over their tensed shoulder. “Muffet, right?”

Aofil nods into their ears that they’ve swooped in over their eyes.

“I’m sure she’ll be very happy hearing that you like her.”

“D...Do you have to say it out loud?” Aofil whispers underneath their father’s ear. They let it lay heavy on their head for comfort, because they’re starting to feel a bit anxious right about now. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all? What if Muffet...doesn’t like them? Maybe… What if…

Weather the pain, Asgore.

Do it for you child.

Ignore them squeezing and rolling your ear like they’re wringing the last drops out of a wet towel.

The last drops of a dry towel, even.

It’s very hard. Aofil’s squeezing and turning your large and white ear very hard, but you did the same with it when you had the same thoughts about Toriel. The endless what ifs and ever more endless maybes. More than you could ever count.

Weather the pain.

Aofil leans their head to rest on their father’s horn as they heave a weary sigh that has his golden hair parting to reveal his white fur underneath. They try and angle his comforting ear up to them so they can rest their chin on it, but that’s a bit too much.

“It hurts a bit,” Asgore makes known very carefully. “Aofil? Child?”

“Oh!” Aofil lets go of the screwed up ear, and it spins back into its original shape as it ungraciously smacks back at Asgore’s cheek. He massages it, but it is very tender at the moment. He drags a sharp inhale through his nose, which is all he’s going to do against the hurt.

“H...How did you do when you met mom?” Aofil leans their head down to Asgore’s eyes while holding tightly on their father’s horn. “It’s not exactly the same now since Muffet is a spider, but...” They don’t even know what they’re saying at this point. They’re too anxious and unnerved. Asgore can feel it by the way they’re gripping his horn. Not tightly because they don’t want to fall off his shoulder, but tightly because they don’t want to let go of it.

“It is more similar than you think,” Asgore begins after giving his child’s cheek a reassuring rub with his own. “Since I also met mom at a cafe of sorts. A tavern, as it was called back in the day, but it was similar enough.”

Aofil nods hard, their fringe and ears tossing about as if a storm is blowing through them. The glimmer in their eyes shift ever so slightly from worry to their signature curiosity. Like a funnel turning into a straight pipe, everything that they’ll hear now will be poured directly into their mind with no stoppage whatsoever. 

Which means Asgore needs to choose his words extremely carefully so that Aofil doesn’t say too much to their mother afterwards. It’s a blessing for them, no doubt about it, but it can easily be turned into a curse for both Asgore and Toriel. 

More so Asgore than Toriel, as it turns out.

“I met your mother during a parade.”

Aofil’s brow furrows as their father pauses to think long and hard. It prompts them to do the same, and good thing too, because a thought hits them. It was kinda like a parade during the anniversary of the Spider Cafe, right? Maybe they’ll find more similarities when Asgore finds his words again?

“It was like when you saw the spider girl, Aofil, as I said before. I couldn’t stop thinking of her when the parade was over. I knew where she was, but I couldn’t get to her. When I did, I just stumbled on my words.”

“But,” Aofil protests like they always do when someone in their family talks down on themselves. A trait they’ve most likely picked up from Frisk. “When you do your speeches to the monsters everyone always applauds afterwards.”

Asgore chuckles heartily. “They mostly do that out of obligation. Your mother when I first saw her though, she was, still is,” he adds hurriedly, “so beautiful that I couldn’t think of anything or anyone else. There were so many things I wanted to say to her when I first met her properly that all the words piled up inside my throat. My tongue didn’t work since it can only say one thing at a time, but I needed to say a thousand.”

Aofil nods with their hand pushed up underneath their chin to take everything their dad says in. They’ll have to make sure that they only want to say one thing to Muffet so that they can actually say it, that’s come across easily to them. But what to say exactly? “What happened afterwards?” they ask to their father smiling nostalgically. “When you could actually say something to mom? What did you say?”

Oh, how you know how to touch nerves you didn’t even know existed, child.

Asgore sighs. No idea holding back the truth since Toriel will be all too happy explaining what really happened in more vivid detail than Asgore ever could. Won’t do Aofil any good with their spider girl if Asgore stretches the truth either. He takes a steadying breath.

“She...threw me out.”

A long pause hangs between father and child.

“She did?”

Asgore’s mood jumps back up seeing his kid wide-eyed and mouth agape in complete surprise. A completely new experience for them that Asgore gets to witness. What bliss. What joy for him to share with his child. Bonding together over the failures of the previous generation to strengthen the next.

If only Asgore didn’t have to deluge how completely hopeless he was to talking to girls when he was younger.

Never a light without a shadow.

Unfortunately.

“Not literally, of course. She politely, yet very firmly, asked me to leave.”

Wait...how is this gonna help Aofil?

Best to perhaps hurry through this part.

For multiple reasons.

“Then, when I was standing outside the tavern thinking about what I did wrong, she peeked her head out the door and gave me a chance to explain myself. I told her that I saw her during the parade and that I wondered if the two of us could spend some time together. I offered to get her some good wine, and she reluctantly accepted.”

Even with Asgore being biased against himself he still can’t describe Toriel’s first acceptance as anything else but reluctant.

Aofil nods with their hand pushing harder against their chin. So they should offer to help, perhaps? Help Muffet with something. But what?

Asgore allows Aofil a couple of seconds to think. Judging by their very loud humming they’re certainly giving it a lot of thought. They’re really serious about this, and that amuses Asgore to no end. Last time they were this deep in thought was when Toriel asked them what they’d like for their birthday.

Aofil spent almost two full hours sitting on the bench in Asgore’s garden thinking about it. Fully focused, and completely still. There were butterflies surveying from their horns when Asgore came over with some tea for them. 

“Then when you and mom met again, what happened then?” Aofil pries.

Before Asgore can answer he needs to put his hand over his child so that the two of them can duck underneath a brick bridge. Shouldn’t be too long now to the Spider Cafe, according to the white road signs at the corners of the purple buildings.

Which Asgore can read very clearly, thank you very much.

“We talked.”

Just...talked? “Just talked?”

“Yeah.”

“And then?”

“We talked some more.”

“About what?”

“About anything, really.”

“Just anything?”

“Just anything.”

Truth be told, Asgore doesn’t remember. He knows that Toriel and he talked, and that they talked for hours, but about what he’s forgotten. More likely is that he never remembered in the first place since he was so enthralled by her. By her form, by her voice, by her character. Aofil is still a bit too young for Asgore to explain those feelings he had back then. It is something both Asgore and Toriel should talk with all their children about together, not one in particular.

It seems that Aofil still goes along, at the very least, as they again push their knuckles into their chin to try and process what Asgore’s told them. They look vacant, but they’re as busy as any monster could ever be. Asgore will let them simmer on what he’s said for a bit. Should be enough time until he reaches the Spider Cafe.

Anything.

Anything…

An...y...thing…

How is Aofil gonna plan for anything?

They cross their arms since putting their hand under their chin has stopped working for them. The large and warm arm and hand of their caring father comes up to hold their back so that they don’t fall now that they’ve let go of his horn. He begins humming on a tune, and his deep voice reverberates both in his aura and through his body. It’s like a securing blanket for Aofil.

But back to anything.

It can mean anything.

And anything is hard.

Since it is anything.

Aofil can talk about something someone asks them about for hours, but if they’re asked to talk about anything, then they always do like dad did and try and say too many things at once so that nothing comes out.

So how are they gonna plan for anything?

Is Muffet even gonna want to talk about anything?

What if she doesn’t?

Then what is left if anything isn’t working?

Nothing?

But then…

Asgore gives Aofil a reassuring pat on their back. He can feel their doubt from all the way through his large body and into his soul. It’s like a shower of sour tea that they’re spilling all over him. He lets them though, since he knows that taste very well from before. “You don’t have to worry, child,” he comforts while massaging one of Aofil’s ears between his fingers. “You can’t really plan this out. Instead of listening to your head, you should be listening to your soul. It’ll tell you exactly what to say.” He gently bends Aofil down to his fuzzy muzzle. “I promise you.” He pecks his child’s nose with his own. “Snoot.”

“Hoot,” Aofil says back as they hug their father’s muzzle and surrounding beard. Their finger begins twirling inside it though as they hang their hug further. “I’m a bit scared, dad. Just a bit. Maybe two bits.” They drag their golden wrapped finger out, and release the spooled beard back with a twang. “Both in my head, and in my soul.”

“That’s because you like Muffet in both your head and soul, Aofil. One of them, if not both, is worried about what will happen when you first meet her, and that’s why you are worried as a whole, my child. It’s a good worry though. You wouldn’t worry if Muffet was someone you didn’t care about, right?”

Aofil nods timidly, their cheek brushing against the top of Asgore’s muzzle that they lie on. They tuck in their knees, and Asgore gently lets them slide into one of his large arms. Normally Aofil does that with Toriel, twirling their claws together as they push themselves into her soft torso. Asgore’s never had Aofil do it with him before, not even when they were small enough to fit inside Asgore’s hand.

He caresses them just as gently as he did when they were, and lifts them up into his beard where they can feel the most securest. Not for long though, since there’s a gentle and freshly baked smell beginning to surround the two. “We’re just a block away from the Spider Cafe now, Aofil,” Asgore relays after sampling the air with his might nose.

They grip two handfuls of golden hair in response, and Asgore makes sure to keep his head very still so that there’s no unnecessary tugging.

“It might be for the better if you walk on your own there, don’t you think? Gotta make a good first impression, and being your own monster is always good to show, my child.”

“C-can I hold your hand, at least?” Aofil wonders after a loud gulp. “Please, dad?” They relax their hands around the golden chin-locks, and Asgore straightens his back to its full, impressive length. He coaxes Aofil off his arm, and offers only his hand instead. They take two of his white fingers, which is all they can warp their small, beige hand around, and squeezes them tightly. They have to hold their arm as far up as they can to reach, and still they’re almost lifted up with each step Asgore takes.

The feeling begins to stir inside of them.

If they’re old enough to hold their dad’s hand and walk on their own at the same time, then they should be old enough to talk to a new friend. A new best friend. Different kind of best friend than what they are with their siblings. A spider best friend.

...Is there more than a best friend?

A sweet aroma envelops Aofil, and they stiffen like a scared pillar as it flows into their nose which clamps down just afterwards. Their eyes shoot open, and they emit a high and startled bleat.

“It’ll be fine,” Asgore reassures by squeezing his finger over his child’s hand to comfort them. “You’ll do fine, Aofil.”

They close their eyes as they breathe in hard through their nose and mouth. With their built up courage they let go of their dad’s fingers, and stomp ahead with determined steps towards the entrance of the Spider Cafe. For a second, they rest the flat of their hand against the door, before they push it open, and-

“Muffin.”

Aofil falls back with their hands and arms pushed out in front of them, bleating in fear as a large tongue whips out against their face. They crash onto the cobble with the slobbering spider pet throwing its tongue against them again, and again. It rains saliva on their terrified face, and they toss and turn their head side to side to try and get away from it. Their arms begin to shake from the weight of the pet, but they dare not open their eyes. What they hear from the spider pet...it’s so scary! It’s like the book Chara read out loud a week ago!

About the evil monster that turns children into pies if they’re naughty! Licking the pie until there is nothing but an empty tray left!

Aofil doesn’t want to be turned into a pie and get eaten!

Noooooooooooo!

Dad! Help!

“Muffin!”

The pet halts for a brief moment, giving Aofil the opportunity to try and roll it off of them. The spider pet bounces as it lands, which gives Aofil time to scramble up on their paws and run behind their father’s wide legs. They grip the back of his robe, and peek terrified around to the dazed spider pet shaking its head so that saliva flies all over the place. Small puddles form between the crevices of the cobble road.

Asgore laughs heartily as he helps his child dry themselves off on his robe. “Just like I did,” he offers warmly with a wink.

Just like…

Yes.

Yes!

Aofil’s scared frown beams into a smile.

It’s just the same!

But…

They don’t want to play with the pet.

“Did Muffin scare you?” comes a curious voice from the other side of Asgore’s legs. Aofil peeks around with their head, but no one’s there. They peek around the other side, but no one’s there either. They’re sure they heard someone say something, but-

There’s a gentle tap on their head.

They look up.

“Did he?”

And fly back with a surprised bleat.

The small spider girl swings down from Asgore’s back. He turns around with an amused and bewildered expression stretching his lips and raised eyebrows. He didn’t see her climb up. He didn’t even feel her. Where did she come from? Where did the spider girl… Spider? Wait, perhaps she repelled down with some string then? Asgore runs a hand over his head to check. He catches a thread of sorts on the tip of his horn, and rubs it off on his robe’s shoulder.

What a curious little monster, swinging from the king’s horn like that without asking.

Muffet leans over Aofil with four of her hands behind her back and with her middle hands folded underneath her round and lightly purple chin. Her face is the right side now unlike it was before. She blinks with her five eyes simultaneously, and Aofil drags a gasp seeing it. “Are you here to pick up the cake?” she asks as she squats down, her two pig tails following along like two large and black bells that toll silently as they bounce to a halt. “Mom’s got it inside the store if you want to pick it up,” she says to Asgore despite looking inquisitively at Aofil. She blinks again as she touches their beige nose.

“Hoot,” Aofil says in reflex, prompting a very perplexed expression from Muffet.

Asgore lifts himself up on his toes to look over the red dress containing the peculiar spider, meeting the confused and frightened eyes of his child between the swaying pig tails as Muffet bounces playfully on her squatted knees. “Hoot?” she wonders out loud. “But where are your wings then?”

Toriel is gonna tear Asgore’s beard off from what he’s about to do, but it’s really the only way he can think of for this to work. This is absolutely not what he had in mind for this encounter to happen, and now there’s really only one way he can see for this to work out.

By letting Aofil fight their own way out of this spider’s web.

Oh, Toriel is gonna take much more than just Asgore’s beard if she finds out. When she finds out, to be honest. However, it is a sacrifice Asgore is willing to make for his child. A sin of a father to aid his child.

He’ll make sure to have a bottle of Royal Purple and some Crystal Cavern cheese at the ready when she finds out.

And some lit candles along with freshly picked flowers arranged for her in a vase on a recently cleaned table inside a recently cleaned house.

That usually does the trick.

“Thank you, small one,” Asgore says before turning on his heel. In the last moment before his head turns around, he sees the widened eyes of his child close in defeat. “Stay determined,” he whispers before he walks alone to the Spider Cafe with his child left behind in a spider’s web. “Stay determined, Aofil.”

He picks up the recuperated spider pet under his arm before it can go after Aofil again. No need to set the spider’s web on fire as well with the pet.

“What’s your name?” Muffet asks with a smile that exposes a few small fangs underneath her upper lip that tuck underneath the outside of her lower lip. “I’ll tell mine after you tell me yours, since I asked first.”

...Aofil didn’t get to this part with dad. What should they do? What should they say? Anything? “Uh…” trickles out of their hanging mouth like drops out of a thought-to-be closed faucet.

Three out of Muffet’s eyes narrow as she tilts her head sideways, giving her brush-like pigtails another bounce as she does. “Uh?” she asks while her mouth moves around to feel how the name is on her tongue. “What a strange name,” she concludes with eyes narrowed amusingly. “But kinda cute.” One of her hands from behind her back comes up to her mouth. “Ahuhu~” she giggles.

Aofil shakes their head hard, their ears flopping against their cheeks with each rapid shake. “No.”

“Uh No?” Muffet perks along with her raised eyebrows. “Is No your last name? But...your dad is the king, right? Is he King No? When did he change that from Dreemurr?”

“No,” Aofil tries for a second time. They sit up with support on their forearms, since they can’t sit completely upright without head-butting the smiling spider. It hurts when they and their siblings do it, so it would hurt even more for Muffet. “I’m Aofil,” they say with one of their furry hands pushed against their upper purple stripe on their sweater. “That’s my name. Aofil. Aofil Dreemurr.”

Muffet arcs backwards as she straightens her back. “Aofil?” She swings back and forth on her heels as she lets the name stew inside her head for a couple of seconds, giving Aofil time to stand up and brush themselves off. They fold up their jeans over their ankles again, and pat the last cobble-dust out of their hair. “That’s even cuter! Ahuhuhu~”

Like a lit match, Aofil cheeks begin burning intensively. S-s-s-she just called their name cute. Not even cute, but even cuter! Their cleaned sweater wrinkles as they wring it between their hands. “T-thanks. I think your name is cute too, Muffet,” they reply bashfully.

Muffet folds all her arms into a threefold over the height of her dress now pale in comparison to Aofil’s blossoming cheeks. “How do you know my name?”

…

Where’s dad?

Aofil needs to get out of here.

Quick!

Mom! Asriel! Anyone!

Aofil screwed up!

They-

“Oh!” Muffet realizes as she slaps her forehead just above her middle eye. “Mom!” she shouts back at the Spider Cafe’s outside decor of empty tables and chairs. Her hands ball angrily at her sides. She must be pretty angry to ball all six of her hands. Aofil can only do it with two of theirs. “I told you I didn’t want to be on the ad!”

“A-a-actually,” Aofil voices with negative confidence. They grab the tips of their ears and drag them over their cheeks to hide their embarrassment. “I h-heard it when I was at the anniversary of the cafe.”

Muffet gasps, stiffening her entire body like the nearby pillar Aofil should probably go hide behind. Her hands open up as she breathes in, and she turns around.

With the most beautiful smile Aofil has ever seen in their life.

“You were there?” bursts out of the stretched smile creating two deep dimples on her purple cheeks. Her fangs push down like a claw onto soft dough on her chin, and her pigtails rise along with her hands clasped together over her dress. “You were there!”

She throws her arms up, only to come falling over Aofil. Muffet hugs them, with all six of her arms. She pushes her head underneath their furry and bleating chin, which causes her to laugh. “Fuhuhuhu~ You sound so funny. It tickles too. Your fur is soft, not like Muffin’s. His doesn’t tickle though.” Muffet pushes her face hard against Aofil’s shoulder, which causes her to sneeze behind them. It sounds more lighter than how Chara sneezes, despite their best attempts to make it sound more powerful. Muffet’s a bit more accepting of it though, as she giggles before rubbing her face on Aofil’s shoulder again.

S-should Aofil hug back?

They can only do it with two arms instead of six…

Is that enough?

Um…

Slower than a sleeping snail, Aofil lowers their thrown-up arms down against the red dress. They barely touch the silk before Muffet jumps back, and they throw their arms up again as if putting their hands on sharp thorns. “You’re funny, Aofil.” She again puts her hands behind her back, and letting her head dangle from side to side as she snickers at Aofil’s stunned demeanor. “Not like the other Boss Monster children who just scream and run away crying when Muffin wants to say hi.”

“Chara and Asriel?” falls out of Aofil without any thought from them.

“Do you know them?” Muffet pries with two of her right arms scratching at her head. “Are you siblings?”

“Y-yeah,” Aofil says with a timid nod. “It’s me, Chara, Asriel, and Frisk.”

“Frisk...” The name rings a bell for Muffet. “Frisk,” she repeats while grinding her lower lip against the backside of her fangs, almost as if she’s cleaning them. “Oh!” Her five eyes shoot wide open. “Frisk! The name on the cake King Asgore wanted us to make!” She gasps again, making her face fuller yet still thinner as the depths of her dimples become almost like two wells. “Is Frisk your actual sibling? For serious real?”

Another startled bleat falls out of Aofil as Muffet grabs hold of their two arms with all of her six ones. She squeezes them again to produce another bleat to giggle at, but no such luck. She shrugs it off, simultaneously making Aofil do it as well without realizing it. “Can you wish them happy birthday from me? It’s rare that I get to wish the ones that commission the cakes happy birthday, but could you do it from me to Frisk?” Muffet’s hands loosen as she looks down. “M...most of the customers just...don’t want to talk.” She looks over her shoulder with a sigh that pushes her quivering lower lip through the gap between her fangs. “Almost all of them just write a note what they want and push it under the door along with the payment.”

Aofil’s arms feel a bit empty as Muffet lets them go. She hugs herself, rubbing her upper arms as she again looks down with her five eyes. “Then they wait around the corner for mom and I to put the pastry out the door and close it. They grab it and run away. No one wants to stay and talk.”

Aofil puts one of their large hands on Muffet’s shoulder. Her dress is very soft, almost like the inside of mom’s ears. Muffet turns her head at them. She blinks a couple of times as she waits for Aofil to say something.

Anything.

Anything…

No.

One thing.

Say only one thing.

“I want to talk to you.”

That’s one thing, right?

“Y-you do? About me? About the pastries?”

That’s...two things!

Oh no!

Panic surges through Aofil’s small body, and their eyes shoot open out of fear. “Eh… I...” With each confused mutter they see Muffet’s hopeful luster drain, the blinking of her eyes becoming asynchronous and longer. “I don’t know,” Aofil admits guiltily. “I want to talk, but I don’t know about what.”

Muffet’ eyes narrow together. “Okay...” she says with a baffled flinch. She leans back her head to think. “Um… What about the cake I baked for Frisk? It was difficult to make, actually. A challenge!”

“Not too hard,” Aofil hopes. “You didn’t have any trouble with it?”

Muffet blows her lips at that ridiculous notion, her fangs making a raspberry whistle around them as she throws two of her arms at Aofil. “Nah,” she reassure with confidence. “It was fun though. Mom and I had to really knead the dough around.” Muffet ties her hands and fingers together as she mimics the process with her dark purple tongue stuck out the side of her lightly purple mouth. “It had to be sturdy to be able to be transported on a wagon, was the instructions. Very weird one,” she adds with a hint of disapproval. “But if the king wants it.”

Aofil follows along next to Muffet as she continues explaining the baking process on the way back to the Spider Cafe. “Sometimes you gotta add a few spiders to the mix to get the flavor just right.” She walks a couple of more steps before realizing that Aofil’s stuck a few steps back like they’ve suddenly turned into a statue. She skips back and waves three hands in front of the bulging eyes and half-opened mouth held tense by quivering lips. “Hello?” she tries, but to no effect. She taps on Aofil’s shoulder, but nothing happens either. “Aofil?”

Her other hands ball up and push against her sides as her mouth pouts to the side. She turns around to try and follow where the unblinking eyes are staring, but she doesn’t find anything noteworthy about the swarm of spiders readjusting the ‘d’ on the Spider Cafe sign. Why are they acting so strange all of a sudden?

Maybe their dad knows something?

“Wait here,” Muffet commands to Aofil.

Just in case.

The light tolling of the entrance bell rung by the entrance door opened in haste has Asgore lifting his head up from today’s newspaper. He sees the spider girl survey the place quickly before spotting him, and running over to tug at his robe. “Mr. King?” she asks while giving the title less than a second of thought. “Is it normal for Boss Monster children to stop working?”

Asgore folds his newspaper together while he blinks to try and process what the girl just asked him. “Pardon me, but pray, could you repeat yourself for me, little one?”

Muffet’s not little!

But anyways. “Aofil stopped working.” She points out the window to Aofil screaming into their sweater’s arm. “Oh,” she piques, surprised. “They didn’t work when I left them.”

Asgore is a bit unsure what is happening at the moment, but it doesn’t look to be too bad. Aofil’s not crying or anything. They just look a bit out of breath, that’s all. Relieved too. They’re fairing better than how Asgore did with Toriel, that’s for certain. Muffet’s mom shouldn’t be too long with finding that last batch of ingredients now, and it would be rude of him to tear Aofil away from their new friend. Wouldn’t be worried about Aofil not working if the two weren’t friends.

He’ll keep an eye open though, from now on.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Asgore assures with a kingly smile to Muffet. “It’s not something us Boss Monsters do often.”

“I see,” she acknowledges with a thoughtful nod. “They stopped working when I told them about the spiders we use to make the dough for Frisk’s cake.” She shines up. “Kinda like what you’re doing right now.”

Asgore forces his eyes to soften, but it’s like trying to make a rock feel like a pillow. He parts his lips that are stretching his cheeks into a neutral smile to hide the bubbling panic from inside. “I see as well,” he manages to voice without letting too much of his distress leak out. He unfolds the newspaper again so that he can hide his face inside of it. “Why don’t you go out to them again and keep them company, if you would, please?”

Muffet nods, her pigtails brushing against the corners of the table inside the booth Asgore’s squeezed himself into. She grabs a kettle of tea and two cups before patting a sleeping Muffin on his head. With her remaining free hands she opens the door to run outside again.

A couple of drops of complimentary tea spills onto Asgore’s robe as he lifts the spider motif adorned cup to his lips. The warmth helps, but not by much. He knew the Spider Cafe used spiders, but… He breathes out, making a moist circle in the newspaper. 

How many pastries has he and his family had now?

A couple of dozen from the anniversary?

The tingling taste Frisk described it as… It was actually…

...It was...

Asgore drinks some more tea.

It doesn’t help much.

“My king?” comes a melancholy voice from further inside the bakery.

“Yes!” he answers a bit too loudly, scaring Muffin awake with a slobbering yelp. “Yes,” he addresses more calmly after clearing his throat as best as he can.

“There is something I must regret informing you about.”

Nothing Asgore’ already regretted hearing. He looks outside to Muffet nearing Aofil drying their arm off. Nothing’s Aofil’s already regretted hearing as well.

“Are you working again, Aofil?”

“What?”

Muffet again waves her hands in front of her new friend, and this time the Boss Monster flinches back with their muzzle wrinkled away from her hands. “Ahuhuhu~” she snickers. “Your dad and you are very similar. You both look so silly when your long noses wrinkle like that.” Aofil flinches again when Muffet taps at the tip of their horns. “But your horns are much smaller than the king’s.”

“They haven’t grown out fully yet,” Aofil explains while rubbing their skull. “But mom says mine are gonna be more like hers when I grow up. Chara and Frisk’s might look more like dad’s.”

“My mom says that my fangs are gonna be bigger than hers,” Muffet also explains with her mouth opened fully, making her words a bit difficult to speak. She leans forwards over Aofil, who cowers down. “See?”

Don’t eat them!

Muffet smacks her lips together as she closes her mouth. It feels a bit dry now. She points over to the table she’s set for Aofil and her with the tea and the cups. “You want some?”

Aofil nods, and follows along Muffet again. Hopefully with less spider revelations this time.

“They kinda hurt when they started to grow,” Muffet continues while gently touching her finger against one of her fangs. “Did your horns hurt too when they started growing?”

They did.

“It was like someone was biting down into the top of my skull, but up instead.” Aofil winces at the memory of waking up crying in the middle of the night. It was not a lot mom or dad could do, since it wasn’t anything they could heal. It was a part of every Boss Monster’s life growing up, and Aofil was the last one. Even Frisk got theirs before Aofil did. Luckily they got their entire family to hug them through the night. The next morning Aofil woke up with their pillow stuck to their head.

Like their siblings had before them.

After filling up Aofil’s cup, Muffet fills up her own. “It was the opposite for me,” she says after a first sip with her fangs over the rim of the cup. “It felt like something was boring up into my skull, but down instead. Mom made me some very hard dough so that I wouldn’t bite down into my lips when I was sleeping. I had to use it for a couple of weeks before I could sleep without it.”

Aofil also has fangs, but theirs are more like a pair of longer teeth instead of the ones Muffet has. Much longer and pointier, almost like two small spears. Small, cute spears, that make dimples in her chin when she smiles as well as the ones that form on her cheeks. Aofil smiles back, and drink some tea themselves.

It’s not as good as dad’s.

But it is still good.

They don’t see any spiders in it either, so that’s good too.

“Do you want to say hi to Muffin?” Muffet perks up as she asks. “He didn’t really get to say hi to your properly before.”

The spider pet?

Aofil leans out from the their chair. The door is still closed, but they can still see the large shadow of the heavily breathing and scary form through the glass. They look through the window to catch their father’s attention for some help, but all they see is him leaning over the counter and talking with Muffet’s mom. By the way he’s leaning on his forearms and clasped hands it might be serious. 

He doesn’t usually do that, mostly only when he has to explain grown-up stuff to Aofil and their siblings. Like when Chara first caught a butterfly a bit too hard when they where very little. It didn’t move after they’d caught it, and dad had to explain to all four what had happened. They made sure to leave the butterfly where they’d seen it the most, on its favorite green flower.

Or when Frisk almost began poking at their soul and scratching at it. It was very scary seeing the fear in dad’s eyes, and it scared Frisk even more having him lift them up with such worry. He let them cry it out on his shoulder while he cradled them, and explained why he was so afraid.

Souls are delicate. They are the culmination of a monster’s being, and it’s not something a child should poke at like that. Nor should an adult. It’s dangerous. It could get hurt, and if your soul is hurt, then you are, permanently. 

It is also the good kind of delicate. So very much so! It’s where love, happiness, and laughter comes from. Aofil, Chara, Asriel, and Frisk, as siblings, have such a strong connection between them that their souls can beat together sometimes. It feels like they’re something bigger, something stronger. Like how they all got their halves from Toriel and Asgore, so will this bigger and stronger being be made with the souls of Aofil and their siblings’ acting like halves just like their parents.

“One day you’ll see this being,” Asgore said as he enveloped his children for a comforting hug inside his flowing bread. “One day you’ll all be so much stronger than your mother and I.”

Aofil looks down at their tea, at their rippling reflection turning their fur the same color as Frisk’s. This being sounds a bit scary, to be honest.

“He’s not scary. He won’t bite.”

Aofil looks up from their reflecting tea. “Who?”

Muffet lets go of Muffin from her many hands, and he lunges at Aofil with his tongue at the ready. He slams into Aofil again, and they fall backwards in their chair with their legs kicking and their voice bleating. Again they find themselves on the hard cobble, and again the fur on their face becomes wet as the spider pet’s tongue licks them like a fuzzy lollipop.

It...actually...kinda...tickles.

“See?” Muffet says with a proud blink to her closed eyes. She squats down to pet Muffin on his rough back. “I told you he wouldn’t bite.”

No! It tickles! Stop!

On Aofil’s nose. Under their ears. At the base of their neck. They squirm as they try and catch their breath, but Muffin is relentless with his kisses. Muffet doesn’t do a lot to help either, and instead is focused on picking away some crumbs stuck in her spider pet’s hair. “Hold still, Muffin,” she commands with a tug at one of his legs.

Aofil inhales some greedy breaths now that they have the chance to. Deep, deep breaths that echo throughout the rather empty plaza. They push away from Muffin’s face with both their hands, and slowly crawl backwards while he follows them with hungry eyes, but with an obedient body standing completely still as Muffet grooms him. “How long until you’re gonna learn to not be in the bakery when mom’s working?” she mutters with a childish huff. “That’s only for the small spiders since they can help.”

After another minute Muffet finally manages to get the last crumb out of Muffin’s pelt. “There!” she cheers with a last hard pat on his back. “Now...” Her upper three eyes narrow as she turns to Aofil, who is hiding behind a chair that they’ve turned around so that its back faces her and her spider pet. “What is it?” she asks while scratching the base of her pigtail. “Weren’t you laughing just now?”

Aofil glances down at Muffin underneath their saliva-drenched fringe. He licks the stretched width of lips with his reconstituted tongue, and Aofil shivers at it. They run their hand across their forehead to get the most of the spider saliva out of their fur. “H-h-how long do you think the cake will take until dad can get it?” they ask after a hard swallow while looking into the cafe through the store window. Asgore’s still leaning forward over the counter, but now with his arms crossed, and drumming his fingers on his upper arms.

Dad, please help! The saliva smells weird, and it’s sticky on Aofil’s fur.

“I’ll check,” offers Muffet as she flies up on her feet. Her black bells toll silently for Aofil, for their demise, as she skips back inside the store, leaving them alone with Muffin. The spider door-chime now tolls for Muffin, who shoots a myriad of hungry eyes at Aofil. They curl further up into their chair, ducking underneath the backrest while gripping the armrests hard.

The dinner bell is still faintly audible as Muffin saunters around the chair. He blinks a couple of times at Aofil, who turns the other way. Muffin walks around the chair, but Aofil turns back. He grumbles for a while, and then jumps up on the backrest.

Asgore turns his head over his shoulder to see Aofil’s flouncing legs dive underneath the bottom of the store window’s rim. He makes a movement towards the door as his ears catch Aofil’s bleat, but then stops as their laughter fills the cafe. 

How nice, they’re playing with the spider pet. 

Asgore returns to his counter resting with a relaxed smile hearing Aofil laugh so carefree. He heaves a calm sigh. The way Muffet swung past him with just a “Muffin’s taking care of Aofil, king,” had Asgore a bit worried about the sheer lack of strings her tone implied, apart from he string she used to swing from his horn again, that is. If there’s any truth to what he’s heard about that spider pet, is that it has more strings than a fully developed spider web, but perhaps Muffet eased in the introduction between Aofil and Muffin.

The laughter from outside sure tells of that.

However, is she also looking for those last ingredients now too with her mother? Asgore doesn’t want to be rude and poke his head in where it doesn’t belong, but it’s been a fair amount of minutes now. The whispering from inside sounded a bit rushed and hushed too. Asgore doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but his fatherly instincts from having four children is difficult to turn off. 

Perhaps he should call Toriel up and tell her that she should take a bit more of a scenic route with the three. 

From a waist pocket in his robe, Asgore pulls out his yellow cellphone. He flips it open with a flick of his wrist, and navigates down his contacts to his loving wife who’s…

Called him three times.

He blinks twice.

“Uh oh.”

He forgot to disable the silent mode from the morning when they were preparing for Frisk.

Oh boy!

He makes sure to hold his phone an ear’s length away as he calls her up. He tenses every muscle on his face as he prepares for the inevitable-

“Hi, dad!”

It’s Asriel’s voice.

Phew!

Asgore places his phone in the pocket of his hanging ear. “Hi there, son. How are you fairing?”

“We’re doing well,” Asriel answers after a second or so of whispering. “Mom asks why you didn’t answer her.”

“Is she angry?”

More whispering before Asriel breathes in deeply through the phone. “She says no,” he relays. Through his teeth, most likely. “How is the cake?”

“It’s still has a bit more decoration to be done on it, I’ve been told.” Asgore pushes his phone out of the pocket in his ear by bending it out like a frozen snail out of an ice tray. “Could I have a word with mom?” he asks carefully before again putting his phone away an ear’s length.

There is some commotion on the other side of the line before Asgore can hear the familiar sound of a phone being inserted into an ear pocket. The even more familiar sound of his wife clearing her throat dramatically emerges like an ominous premonition before she smacks her lips that only she can.

“Is the king too busy to answer to his queen?”

“I’m sorry, Tori,” Asgore apologizes with a light chuckle. “I had my phone on silent still since earlier today, and I forgot to turn the sound back on again.”

“I’ll try and make room in my soul to forgive you for that, Gorey,” Toriel chuckles back. Her tone makes Asgore comfortable enough to nestle his phone back into his ear, which Toriel waits patiently for before continuing. “So, how is the cake coming along?”

Asgore nods to himself. “It’s...on its way. There’s a special ingredient they’re searching for, which they’re having some trouble finding. Marzipan, it’s called. They’re gonna use it to sculpt Frisk’s face, and it’s edible.”

“I see.”

Not really the most enthusiastic response, but to be fair Asgore had the same reaction. It’s very context sensitive, but eating their face is a tad better than eating their soul. 

Again, context.

From the sample Asgore was offered there will be no worry that it should be sweet enough to resemble Frisk, at least.

“You should take the kids on some window shopping, dear. It might be a while until they find it.”

The pause has Asgore reckoning that Toriel is nodding. “Will do, my love. How is Aofil?”

Asgore’s words are halted at the tip of his tongue as the doorbell chimes behind him. He looks over his shoulder, and his phone almost falls out of his ear as it’s lifted in wide surprise.

Aofil extends up a shaking hand from their crawl. “D...a...d...” they force out of them between their heavy breathing. Their fur is as if it’s melting off their body, the same with their hair. Spit hangs like vines from the cavern ceiling from their outstretched arm pleading for help. The arms of their drenched sweater is rolled up all the way to their shoulder. 

“They’re...um...” drips out of Asgore’s mouth the same way the drool is dripping from Aofil’s lifted hand and fingers. Like from a wet sponge, saliva explodes from between Aofil’s clenched fingers as they clasp it in fear. Their eyes bulge, and their mouth opens in horror. Half a second later they’re dragged out of the door again, bleating with the last air inside them.

“They’re just fine!” Asgore half-shouts hurriedly into his ear and phone before disconnecting the call. He barely makes it out the door before his phone starts ringing again, but he weathers the pain as he lifts off the slobbering spider pet from his cowering child laughing painfully. Muffin turns around in his hands, but Asgore’s arms are too long for him to reach with his tongue. Asgore tucks the spider underneath his arm as he answers the incoming call from Toriel.

“I don’t believe you,” she says without emotion.

“We brought with us some extra clothes for the little ones, yes?”

There is a long pause.

“They’re just fine,” Asgore repeats as convincingly as he can. Problem is, he’s trying to convince water to be dry. “It was just the spider pet licking them a bit. Giving them some kisses, that’s all.”

There is a longer pause.

“Toriel, I...”

Asgore should just stop. The more he says the more he’s gonna dig himself deeper. 

“Look. I’ll fix it, dear.” He takes a glance down at Aofil who is laying on their back heaving air in and out of themselves. “I’ll wash them off. No problem.”

The sound of Toriel’s tongue smacking once through the cellphone is the loudest sound Asgore’s ever heard in his life. “You do that,” she says with the same tone she used when she caught Chara and Asriel sneaking out at night to eat some leftover chocolate.

Asgore folds his ear along with his phone inside of it as he breathes out through loose lips. He lets the folded phone fall into his hand before he places it back into his pocket. 

Never has he feared more for his beard than when he had a bad day training with Gerson back in his days as a prince.

He should probably check on Aofil firstly, but before that he opens the cafe door and deposits Muffin inside a booth where he immediately jumps up with four of his legs onto the window, pressing his face and hanging tongue against the glass. Aofil rolls away from him while mumbling a scared moan.

“You...um...” Asgore hesitates for a moment before placing his warm hand on Aofil’s drenched shoulder. It’s...unpleasant, but it is a father’s work to be done. “You feeling alright, Aofil?”

They shake their head, sending drops that crash against Asgore’s cheek.

Figures.

He wipes them off to the best of his ability.

“My stomach hurts,” Aofil whispers. “The spider pet tickled me so much.”

Asgore glances over to the window, to Muffin staring with all his eyes at Aofil. “Guess he likes you.” With one arm, he picks Aofil up. “Maybe a little too much.”

They nod once.

“Let’s get you cleaned up then. I’m sure the saliva dries quickly, but perhaps it’s better if we get it out of your fur as fast as possible.”

Aofil nods again.

With his free and dry hand, Asgore opens the front door. He then shoves it at Muffin as he begins turning around towards Aofil. The pet seems to understand the intent by the force of the air pushed in his face which has his cheeks flapping. He sits down complacent, and just observes.

“Please excuse my intrusion,” Asgore shouts with respect into the bakery, “but-”

“We still haven’t found the marzipan,” Muffet answers before Asgore can finish. She repels down from the top of the door frame with her hair hanging exactly the same as the doorbell at the entrance. Her upside-down smile turns into an upside-down frown, and she raises her five eyebrows straight down. “What happened to you?” she shoots over to Aofil, who tucks themselves into their father’s arm.

“Muffin,” they say quietly.

Muffet’s frown changes tone. From inquisitively to disapprovingly. “Muffin!” she chastises with her high-pitched voice. “I told you only to say hi, not eat Aofil! They’re a customer. Eugh!” she voices with a pouted huff. “Although, you’re also my friend now, so maybe...”

“I wanted to ask if there was somewhere I could clean them off?” Asgore chimes in between Muffet and her cowering spider pet. “Fur gets very uncomfortable when slime or saliva begins drying on it.”

“It does?” Muffet piques. “That’s strange. For me it just runs off.” She collects some speed from a couple of swings before jumping and stringing herself up on Asgore’s horn for the third time. She presents her purple cheek to Aofil, and pokes at it with a finger. “Here.”

Aofil looks up to Asgore, who shrugs and shakes his head.

It earns him a hard glare from Muffet as she sways on her string with her six arms folded. She stops herself by the sheer force of her glare, and scoffs at the king. “Tsk.”

Asgore can’t help but smile at the sheer weight and distilled poison behind Muffet’s scoff.

Who is this sassy spider?

She’s wonderful!

Muffet takes Aofil’s hand in one of hers, and places one of their soaked fingers on her cheek. It’s soft, yet still rough. Like the soft side of a scouring pad without water on it. “See?” she shows while angling her cheek down. The drop from Aofil’s finger runs down like water on a stone, and falls off onto Asgore’s paw.

Maybe not so wonderful…

“Could I perhaps use a large baking tray to wash Aofil in?” Asgore pushes further gently after unfurrowing his brow. “Basin perhaps?”

“Um...” Muffet voices as she begins thinking again. “You can use the sink, I think.” She giggles at the rhyme before swinging over the counter and correcting her dress as she lands. “Follow me.” 

Asgore walks around the counter, ducking underneath a spider web with a handful of spiders weaving a ball of silk that they throw for Muffin to play with. 

“It’s there on the other side of the kitchen.” Muffet points two of her left arms over to where the large vat and faucet stands. “Mom and I will be in the storage for a little while longer to search for the marzipan for Frisk’s ears.” She whispers something to a clump of spiders coming out of the woodwork which sends them skittering back into the walls. 

Asgore is lucky Aofil was too busy looking around for the cake. It’s gonna be difficult enough getting them out of their clothes, and more so if they’re frozen in fear. He gently places then into the sink Muffet so kindly pointed at, and runs the water on his arm to make sure it’s the correct temperature. Aofil lifts their arms up so that their dad can easily slip their sweater off. The saliva is like half-frozen glue between then their sweater and fur, but luckily it isn’t enough to rip against their hair and fur. Aofil undoes their trousers by themselves before kneeling down into the vat. Their eyes can just about look over the edge of the sink yet they still see no cake.

“So,” Asgore begins as he moves Aofil closer underneath the faucet, “I think Muffet likes you.” He scoops some water inside both of his hands and lets it fall onto Aofil’s head so that it reaches down through their hair, otherwise they’ll be itching for the rest of the day. “She’s a cute spider monster.”

Aofil looks through the running water distorting their vision towards the storage room where Muffet entered. They sigh, blowing some of the water against the inner side of the steel vat. “She said I was strange.”

“Well...” Asgore rubs the saliva out of Aofil’s ears as he thinks. It feels nice to them. “To her you are strange. She doesn’t have three Boss Monster siblings like you do, my child.” With a gentle white hand he lifts up Aofil’s beige arm to clean off underneath. “I’m thinking that you’re thinking that living inside a bakery is pretty strange to you, but to her it is normal.”

Aofil...didn’t even think about that. Does that… “Does that make me a bad person?”

Asgore cups his hands underneath his child’s soaked chin. “Oh no, my child,” he assures while taking the opportunity to wash off the slobbered nose. “Of course not. We all have our different ways of thinking what is normal, and that is a good thing.” He pushes away Aofil’s fringe from their eyes like two shower curtains so that he can look straight into them, bar any refraction from the flowing water. “As long as you’re willing to accept that.”

Aofil nods.

“Good. Now, sit down on your behind so that I can clean your legs.”

The steel is cold against Aofil’s tail, but the warm water heats it up after a short while. Once Asgore nods satisfactory they curl their legs back to them, and hug their knees together so they can put their chin down on them. They sigh. They sigh in a way only a child can. Wistfully, but not really understanding why exactly.

Asgore picks it up like it was an echoing scream, and he runs his dry hand over his child’s wet hair. “Were you scared when that spider pet jumped you?”

Aofil shakes their head. “Not really.”

That was not the answer Asgore expected, to be perfectly honest. Chara and Asriel ran away crying when they first met the pet, but Aofil wasn’t scared with the pet slobbering on top of them? Maybe they don’t want to admit that they were scared? “Do you still want to wait for the cake with me, or should I walk with you back to mom?”

“I can stay.”

It must be the spider girl.

It has to!

There’s no other explanation.

The way Aofil’s eyes are resting without thinking towards the storage room is proof enough for Asgore.

“I have the number to the Spider Cafe from the commission receipt I got when I ordered the cake,” Asgore reveals with a very obvious hint to his voice. He wrings out Aofil’s shirt after having let it soak underneath the faucet. He hangs it over the sink’s edge so that he can finish up with the trousers. “I’m sure Muffet will answer if you call. Maybe you two can start a delivery service for the cafe, perhaps?” A towel falls down from the ceiling, and Asgore catches it and hands it to Aofil. He winks a thanks to the small spiders in the roof before they slink back between the planks. “You can use the wagon if you want.”

Aofil meets the smiling eyes of their father. They nod timidly, and then smile back at him. “M-maybe,” they stammer out. “I t-think I have to ask Muffet about it first.”

“About what?”

A deep and metallic thud reverberates the sink as Aofil throws their head back with a surprised yelp. They grip their ears as the sound rocks their head both from the impact and from the reverberating metal almost making them deaf sitting inside the sink. Asgore dampens the shaking sink with his large and fuzzy paws until they calm down enough for Aofil to remove their pressing hands from their ears.

“Anyways,” Muffet continues after the sink has stopped moving, “we found out where the last package of marzipan is.”

“Oh,” Asgore piques as he hovers his fire magic over Aofil’s clothes to dry them, “so you’ll finish up the cake now?”

“It’s already finished.”

That’s strange. Asgore didn’t see any spiders, be it big or small, work on the cake while he was washing Aofil. He moves his fire from the clothes to his child, who dries themselves off with it.

“The package is inside the cake,” Muffet explains with a thumb thrown over her shoulder. “So it is done.”

Asgore flaps the last drops out of Aofil’s sweater before he hands it over for them to put on again. “But the ears?”

“That’ll cost extra.” Muffet crosses her arms. “Mom said it wouldn’t, but she wants me to help more with the cafe, which is what I am doing.”

“What if we bring the marzipan package back?” Asgore offers while holding the towel across the top of the sink so that Aofil can put on their trousers without worry. “Sounds good?”

Muffet narrows her eyes at the king, who’s are ever so softly. “I guess I can make it work, but then I also want Aofil to bring it back.”

Aofil halts with their pants at their knees. They look up to their dad from behind the concealing towel for a second before pulling their pants up the last way. They pull out their tail by flicking a claw at it bending at the hole in their pants, and stand upright. “I can do that,” they say to Muffet with a smile. “Also, um...”

“Yes?” she piques with her hands behind her back and foot twirling on the floor.

Aofil looks up again at Asgore, who nods encouragingly. They breath in through their nose, and out their mouth so bring up their confidence. “I was thinking that I can maybe help you with some deliveries? I have a wagon and-”

“I’ll talk to mom!” Muffet answers with a hectic nod that almost throws her pigtails off her head. She waits patiently, surprisingly, as Asgore lifts Aofil down to her level, tapping her fingers together. “I mean...if you want.”

Aofil nods. “I-I want. It’ll be fun!”

The sink once again rings out its deep reverb as Aofil flinches back from Muffet throwing all her arms around them. It doesn’t hurt though.

Quite the opposite.

“We’re gonna be the best of business partners!”

Asgore allows himself an amused chuckle before he leaves the kitchen to let the kids try and figure out their plans. Once back in the lounge, he picks up his phone again to call.

“My turn now!” Frisk shouts while waving their excited hand as they hear Toriel’s phone ring inside her robe. They shove their hand into her pocket, and flick the phone open before it’s even out of the robe. “Guess who?” they answer.

“Frisk,” Asgore guesses immediately.

“...Yes,” Frisk sighs. He’s too good at this. Dang it. “Are you and Aofil on your way?” Frisk tries to nestle the phone into their ear, but it’s not deep enough for it to be secure, so they have to walk with their head tilted to the side so their ear acts more like a hammock rather than a holder. “We just passed by the Echo Shop, so we’ll do the memory terrarium on the way home instead.”

“Ah! Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I’m sure Aofil would love to see you make it too.”

Asriel and Chara lean their heads down as well so that they can also hear from the phone. Toriel is forced to hide her giggle behind the gentle palm of her white hand. They all look like they’re glued together at the head. It’s gonna be interesting to see how they handle walking around a lamp pole.

She moves her basket to her other arm. Not because it is heavy, more because it’ll be easier to take the phone when Asgore inevitably wants to talk to her. It is heavier than how it was when she left the house though. It was a good idea from Asriel to buy one of those one time use cameras so that the family could take a picture all together. Normally Asriel just films all of it, but with the video cassettes being quite rare this year from the Garbage Dump, it’s not been as much as before. They were lucky today with the single use camera.

It should be a nice photo considering where they are all heading.

Hopefully Gerson’s managed to get everything set up so that they don’t have to spend the entire day walking. He’s a crafty turtle though, so Toriel’s not too worried. 

“Mom.” 

Toriel leans down so that Frisk can stuff the phone in her ear. “Thank you, child,” she says before straightening her back. “What is it, dear?” she asks her stuffed ear.

“I just wanted to let you know that Aofil and I should be heading out from the Spider Cafe in a minute or so. The cake is being packed inside its box as we speak, and Aofil and the spider girl just have to finish up some business plans they’re discussing together. Aofil’s offered to help out with some deliveries from time to time.”

“Oh,” Toriel perks with pride. “Is that so? How nice. Well, we four will be heading off to Riverperson then.”

“I’ll check with Gerson then and call you back if there is a problem.”

Toriel nods. “Wonderful, dear.” She moves to disconnect the call. “See you in a bit.”

“Oh, before you hang up!” Asgore says hurriedly but not louder. “I gotta inform Frisk of something. Just a little change to their cake, no biggie.”

Toriel’s a bit unsure about that considering how hurried he was, but she’s trusted him with worse. “Frisk?” she asks her child trying to hug both their siblings with their tail. It’s just short of embracing both Chara and Asriel. Maybe next year they’ll be able to hug all three if it keeps growing like it’s been doing this last year. “Dad wants another word with you, please.” Toriel leans down again so that Frisk can push out the phone like a piece from a box of chocolate. They again lay it inside their brown ear and angle their head to the side so that it’s cozy and so that their siblings can listen in. Chara and Asriel wait for a nearby lamp pole to pass before they put their heads onto Frisk’s again.

After fighting her motherly instincts to eavesdrop, Toriel checks the passing road sign. It shouldn’t be too long for her and her three children to arrive at Riverperson’s station. Depending on how long Asgore and Aofil will take, the four might even have to wait a bit. She’ll not risk another detour though. There aren’t many interesting shops on the way, at least not for the children. 

Or her husband.

Toriel can see right through his plastered smile when she suggests the two should visit the snail farm. One would think his interest would stretch beyond what his tongue can reach when it comes to snails, but evidently not. He hides it very well, but Toriel is all too familiar with the breeze that’s stormed up when he yawns out of boredom. 

It howls of his desire to do literally anything else.

His fault for marrying her, so he’ll have to weather it.

It takes a couple of tugs on Toriel’s robe for her to realize that Frisk is trying to get her attention. “Hm?” she asks still half lost inside her thoughts. Frisk rolls their eyes and drops the phone back into the robe pocket before skipping away with their siblings to a small playground that they rush through as fast as they can.

Toriel picks up her phone again. She bounces it a couple of times in her hand before dragging a sinister smile and opening it.

“Wahahahahaha! You’ve reached Gerson, captain of the Royal Guard!” boasts the voice mail with vigor and a hearty guffaw. “I can not take your call at the moment, but please leave a message after the ngaah.”

“Ngaaaaah!” shouts a high pitched voice with exploding eagerness.

Asgore looks at his phone like it’s just insulted his beard, and pockets it with a very confused shrug.

A busy signal from Gerson when Asgore calls? Why would he ever deny a chance to remind Asgore how bad his form was during his time as a prince? 

With a baffled sigh, Asgore hands his phone over to Aofil, who takes it with both hands. “Could you call up Gerson for me after a minute or so?”

Aofil nods as they pocket their dad’s phone. It fits very tightly, and they can feel it push against their leg with each step they take.

But if dad asks for help, then Aofil will help!

They return to hugging the large spider-motif box with both their hands as Asgore begins walking again. The shaking from the cobble is noticeable, but Aofil should be able to keep the box upright with the help of their weight.

Minus their head since they’re feeling it floating away at the moment.

They’re never gonna wash their left cheek again.

Their blossom hasn’t yet died down on that side, and they kinda hope that it never does. It’s still almost as red as Muffet’s dress from when she leaned in to give them an upside-down peck at the front door. Her laughter still echoes inside their head.

“Ahuhuhu~”

They sigh, content.

Asgore can’t help but smile at the sound of the sigh reminding him of how he did back in the day. Aofil might be as unreachable as him too at the moment. It’s gonna be history repeating itself if Gerson tries to call and Aofil won’t be able to pick up since they’re deaf against anything besides the sound of their loved one inside their head.

They might even get a loud chewing out from his new apprentice. That small, blue fish girl. What was her name again? 

Aofil’s leg shoots up in fear as Asgore’s phone begins ringing inside their pants’ pocket. They heave a relieving exhale as they just barely miss knocking over the cake with their flinch, and pull out the yellow phone like the cork of a bottle. “It’s Gerson,” they relay while holding the phone out for Asgore. 

“You can answer it,” Asgore offers with a warm smile. “I need both hands on the wagon’s handle.” He’s gonna hear what Gerson has to say even from here, so it’s not like he’s gonna miss out on the loud chewing out. If it’s Aofil answering it won’t be loud enough for the entire purple city to hear, so that’s most likely for the better.

“Hello?”

“Ngaaaah! Undyne here!”

Oh yeah, Undyne. That’s the fish girl’s name. Guess the first thing Gerson taught her was to scream like him.

Not really a surprise to Asgore, to be perfectly honest.

Aofil switches ears since they’re now deaf on the side they answered on. They put the phone against the outside of their ear so that they don’t go deaf on that side too. “Listen here, punk! Whoever you are, not-King-Asgore-Dreemurr!” Undyne continues a bit more muffled. Still loud, but not deafening. Not completely, that is. “I don’t know how you got a hold on the King’s phone, but mark my words with the tears rolling down your scared eyes, I will-”

“It’s Aofil,” they interrupt with the phone at an arm’s length. “I’m Asgore’s child.”

“Oh?” comes a perplexed huff from the phone that almost tussles Aofil’s hair. “Then why didn’t you answer with your name!”

Asgore sends over a half-stern, half-laughing expression over to Aofil, who lowers their head. “Sorry,” they apologize to the screaming girl breathing heavily through the receiver. It’s almost like she’s gonna pop out of it any moment now.

“Apology accepted, but don’t go crying about it!” Undyne clears her throat like how Waterfall clears water falling from great heights and with even greater speed. “Sir Gerson is on his way to the Riverperson station at the moment, but HE’S UNFORTUNATELY OLD ENOUGH THAT HE FORGETS HIS PHONE!”

Aofil manages to point the phone away from the cake in the nick of time. Otherwise the screaming would’ve knocked it over. It almost shatters the windows of the nearby houses. 

“Her Majesty’s wish will be fulfilled too, I should inform.”

Asgore’s ears perk. Her Majesty’s? Toriel’s? What has she wished for from Gerson?

“And that’s about it. Undyne dismissed!”

Even the tone denouncing that the caller has hung up is louder than usual. “Can you dismiss yourself?” Aofil wonders as they fold the phone up again. “Is that allowed?”

Asgore didn’t really hear the question. “Hm?” He turns around. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Fair enough.

“My deepest thanks, Sir Gerson.”

“Don’t worry your pretty face about it, my Queen. Any chance to remind Asgore that his feet belongs on the ground is a chance I will never pass up!” Gerson nods to the three Boss Monster kids standing at Toriel’s sides. “I hope you’re doing so as well, children. He may be your father, but don’t let that get to that fuzzy head of his. Each strand of golden hair and beard is from his pride, and you wouldn’t believe how much it’s puffed up ever since he had you. Just remind him about the mattresses in the training grounds, and he’ll land back onto the ground harder than a boulder thrown from the top of Waterfall. Wahahahaha!”

“Oh,” Toriel smiles worryingly, “they are a bit too young for that, Sir Gerson.” She stretches her brows into a momentarily stern furrow for only Gerson to pick up. “We. Do. Not. Need. To. Discuss. It. Further.”

“Well, him and you were also a bit too young when I found you-”

“Thank! You! Sir! Gerson!” Toriel thanks VERY MUCH through her clenched teeth. “That’ll be all.”

Gerson shoots a winning look at Toriel before he takes a bow for the three kids, who bow back. “Be seeing you for your training next week.”

“Be seeing you, Sir Gerson,” the three reply as they wave him goodbye.

It’s not long after Gerson rounds the left corner of the forked road between the two tall buildings that Asgore and Aofil round the right one. If Toriel was a guessing girl she’d say that he was waiting until Gerson was out of sight, and then a bit more for it not to be obvious.

“We’re here now!” Asgore informs with a jolly shout. “Sorry if we kept you waiting.”

“We?” Toriel challenges with her arms crossed over her the rune on her chest. “You’re not blaming Aofil, I’m hoping.”

“Sorry, mom,” Aofil apologizes from behind the cake box. “I had to make a business plan with Muffet so that we could make deliveries.”

“M-Muffet?” Chara swallows hard as Aofil jumps off the wagon next to their siblings. “Is that the spider pet?”

Aofil shakes their head. “No, that’s Muffin.”

Asriel and Chara trade terrified glances.

“Muffet is the spider girl,” Aofil explains while pulling down their ears over their cheeks to hide their blossom. “I just need to stretch them out a bit since I had to listen hard to the business plans Muffet and I concluded,” they lie with hope that it won’t be obvious.

It is.

But their siblings lets it go.

Since now they’re all here! Now they can all get on Riverperson’s boat and go…

Go…

Um…

“Where are we going?” Frisk asks with a gentle tug on Toriel’s robe. “You never said where.”

Toriel nods to Asgore with a gentle smile. “We are going to a very special place, my children,” she explains as she kneels down with her husband. Together, they surround their children inside their outstretched arms.

“A very special place,” Asgore repeats.

Asriel’s excitement bleats out of him. “Where?”

The two Boss Monster parents trade another knowing glance.

“The Barrier.”


	52. Faces in the stars

“Tralalalalala~”

“Tralalalalala.”

“Tralala~”

“Tralala.”

“Tralalalalala~”

“La!”

The four singing Boss Monster children all look invitingly behind them to their parents with the same synchronous clockwork they’ve sung together with. Toriel and Asgore send them a smile and nod in acknowledgment. The family of six...six and a half…hunker down in quiet while they all observe River Person bobbing along with the gentle rocking of the boat they’re all sitting comfortably in. The gentle clang of the children’s combined voices fade away behind them, the crystals dotting the cavern walls having changed color due to the tone of their gentle humming.

The water behind the wooden boat shimmers with a calm yellow from the upbeat symphony sung by River Person and the four kids. What color will it be with Toriel and Asgore chiming in?

“Tra,” River Person begins again, waking up the crystals in front of the boat with their subtle voice. “La! Lalalalala~” they continue, changing the hue of the cavern tunnel to a more simmered purple.

“Tra,” Asgore starts as he takes tone for his family. They all squint as the crystals almost begin flaming from his booming inflection.

“La,” Toriel extends, calming the intense orange into a more thoughtful amber hiss. Ember-like rather than full on flames. She breathes in again while locking eyes with the her family.

They’re all ready.

“Lalalalala!” the entire family sings in unison. The sharp walls and ceiling around them turn into soft contours as the orange begins breathing with the crystals reacting to the combined song and all its distinct voices. The dark water turns into a river of cold lava akin to Hotland. It is just as warm as said lava from the radiating tender love shared between the Dreemurrs. The shadows cast from the crystals’ shine are long, reaching for the family and the boat. They envelop the wooden vessel not as tendrils born out of darkness, but as caressing and careful curls of comforting claws that brush against the cheeks of the Boss Monster family.

It tickles them.

“Tralalala, tra tra tra la la~”

A deep blue blanket is thrown over the boat from the crystals. The water becomes water again, and gives it a reflecting depth enough that the crystals begin to resemble-

“Stars!” Asriel bleats with glee. His joy travels down both the long lengths of the cavern tunnel, but doesn’t return. The family still have a ways to go, and they have gone a ways already. “They’re like stars in the water.” He waves his siblings over to the side of the boat, and Toriel leans closer towards Asgore to offset the shift in weight.

“You have to lean forward as much as you can, children, if you want to see the most spectacular of stars,” Asgore advises with no bias hiding behind his words at all. Toriel playfully throws the back of her hand against his stomach.

“You’re the one jumping in and retrieving them if they fall overboard,” she reminds while failing to contain her amused giggle. She turns her head away, but Asgore can still see it reflecting in the tranquil water. The ripples created by River Person’s boat are few and calm enough that Toriel’s smile still remains a smile. It hovers just below surface, just like how the boat hovers just above it. “And you’ll have to dry yourself up with your own fire,” she adds as a threatening caveat.

“On second thought, don’t lean out too much, children.”

Toriel rewards herself for her victory by putting her husband’s large arm around her neck as she rests her head against his chest.

For weight reasons, of course.

And for him to be able to reach if one of the kids make a splash. Hopefully not Aofil...well, hopefully not anyone, but if push comes to shove, particularly from Chara, most likely, then most hopefully not Aofil. Their first pair of clothing hasn’t dried up completely yet, despite Asgore’s best efforts. He’s forgiven though for the reason that he had to wash out the spider pet’s saliva all the way to Aofil’s skull to get it all away.

He’s not forgiven for how the saliva got there in the first place though.

Once he cleans the house after handing Toriel a parasol tea-drink while she sits in the garden reading a freshly bought book about snails then he might be forgiven.

Might.

For now he can run his soft hand over her arm while she watches her four children making up constellations.

“If you can find one that’s connected like this,” Frisk explains through a series of knots of their fingers, “then that one we can call ‘The Snail’.” The others agree with hefty nods, and begin scouring the water below. Asriel the most. He leans in closer with his white muzzle, almost touching his reflection’s muzzle as he does.

Chara turns a glance over their shoulder to Toriel, who narrows her eyes sternly for a moment while she shakes her head. Chara shrugs, and moves their hand away from Asriel’s back. 

“Don’t make your father jump in and fetch you,” Toriel addresses in case any of the other ones gets the same idea. “He’ll have to stop hugging me then, and that won’t do.”

Asgore stretches a smile for himself. He fluffs up Toriel against his sturdy chest, and she hums with content. He agrees, to stop hugging her won’t do.

Not now.

Not ever.

He kisses the top of her head.

She responds by giving him one on his lips buried underneath his beard.

“Tralalala~”

“La la,” the family joins in together again, shifting the color a bit lighter. 

Asriel’s furrow hardens against his more faint reflection. Dang it, now it’s harder to find the stars with the lighter water. He’s determined though! He’ll find ‘The Snail’! It’s hidden somewhere among the strewn reflections. Somewhere, and somehow, he’ll find it for Frisk. Then Frisk can show mom! And while he looks, he’ll find the constellation for Frisk too. And Chara. And Aofil. And mom. And dad.

He’s already found one for himself. It was the first one he figured out. The ones for his family will be similar, of course, but he’s also figured out their differences. 

Mom is gonna have some fewer stars for her contours so that it looks softer, just like how she is.

Dad is gonna have large stars at the top of his head that are similar to his horns.

Chara is gonna have their hair and cheeks visible in their constellations.

Aofil too, but it’s gonna be easy to distinguish the two at a glance since they’re gonna have different poses.

Frisk will have their long tail whipping out from behind them.

But first, ‘The Snail’!

It needs a swirling pattern for its shell, and some small stars for its feelers. It might need a lot of luck to find one that looks exactly like how he imagines it to be, but perhaps Asriel will get lucky again? He got lucky with his own constellation, after all. He relays his idea for ‘The Snail’ to his siblings, who all listen with their ears sharpened enough to cut through rock. “We have to be quick to point it out so that mom and dad can see it,” he finishes off with a thumb thrown astern over his shoulder. “So as soon as you see one, point it out as soon as you can!”

“Tralalalalalala~”

“Tra. La. Lalalala!”

The crystals in the river tunnel again darken their hue into a deep green that settles itself comforting over the siblings. Asriel shines up seeing the reflection in the passing water become clearer and easier to spot again, and he turns his head quickly over to River Person gently humming at the bow. “Thank you very much,” he says with a smile after waiting for his ear to slide off his cheek. “I’ll try and find a constellation for you too, River Person.”

There’s a slight shift in River Person’s cloak, the first movement they’ve ever done. “Tra la la, you too,” they wish back after their hood turns halfway to look back at Asriel’s smile. Even if it’s hidden beneath and inside a darkness most would refrain from addressing, Asriel can still feel the smile radiating out from inside the hood. “Can it be some notes, tra lalala la?”

That it can, and Asriel returns back to scouring the blank surface dotted with its reflective flakes of snow. It’s like a street full of them that they’re gliding through. A street full of snowflakes that they’re all exploring.

The ‘Snow Street’!

No, that’s already one in Snowdin called that. Maybe another word synonymous to ‘snow’?

‘Winter Street’?

Yeah, that sounds good. Asriel and their siblings are looking for constellations in the ‘Winter Street’! 

The ripples from the gently rocking boat has the snowflakes stars in the Winter Street falling upwards and away from the wooden vessel only to flutter back into place where they began. So many colors and different shapes in this river, with a subtle ebb and flow created by the waves as the boat glides through it uninterrupted.

Kinda like…

Asriel lifts his head up from the water, to the slight surprise of his siblings, who cast questioning looks between them. He seems pretty deep in thought though, so they don’t bother him about it, and instead return their long noses into the water. It’s better if they stick it in the water instead of in his business.

“Bless you,” Chara and Aofil wish Frisk as they dip their returning nose a bit too much into the water. Asriel keeps his head and back straight up still.

Gliding seamlessly and without interruption through a river…

Looking over the side of the vessel to faces staring back…

The only thing missing is for mom and dad to wave and be greeted as king and queen and this will be exactly the same as when they arrived in Home!

Hopefully Aofil and dad stick around so that the family is whole this time around when the boat docks at the Barrier.

Asriel chuckles to himself again before returning to join with his siblings’ snail hunt. It’s nice that all four are doing it together, even if it’s only trying to find a constellation of one. Perhaps next time Frisk and Chara will want to follow with Aofil and Asriel to go actual snail hunting. 

“Is that one?”

No, not even close, Frisk.

...Aofil and Asriel will have a lot of teaching to do if Frisk and Chara chooses to follow along, it seems.

“Close,” Asriel still offers friendly and encouragingly. It’s Frisk’s birthday, after all. “Maybe we can find another with a much cooler swirl to it?” 

Frisk agrees with a quick and determined nod. 

“You ready too, Aofil?”

They nod equally determined.

“Chara?”

Same there!

“Then let’s do it!”

Furry hands grip the edge of the boat yet again, and ripples begin flowing from the hanging ears dragging against the water’s surface like paintbrushes. The water isn’t cold, but neither is it warm enough for the Boss Monster siblings to not shiver when their eager ears first dip into the deep green liquid. Aofil lifts their ear up to feel at it, and Chara gives them a playful bump with their elbow. “You’re not gonna catch any fish, don’t worry,” they say with a giggle that Aofil joins in with. “You think we can find us two as twins next to each other in the water? That way we’re both twins in stars and in soul.”

Aofil will do one better. Two better, actually. “Maybe we can find all four of us?” The raised ante begins glittering in Chara’s eyes, even more than what the stars are already doing. Their own magic sparks the luster further as they breathe in excitingly. “And then six with mom and dad!”

Chara’s ears splash loudly as they nod, but it doesn’t faze them in the slightest. Instead it surprises them a bit seeing their own dark distorted reflection in the waves they created. They look back at Aofil, who chuckles at Chara’s almost terrified expression. It’s not often they let one slip, and that they’re so terrified over getting their ears wet is rather funny. Why are they so worried all of a sudden? Even Asriel seems scared, almost like the two caught Muffin looking up at them from the water. It wouldn’t scare Aofil though. Muffin’s already done his worst to them, there’s nothing more he can do to scare them. Especially when they’re with all of their siblings gazing at stars to match their faces.

To be perfectly honest though, it’s not really the constellations that interests Aofil. They’ll keep a lookout for ones that resemble ‘The Snail’, but what really strikes their interest is the way the water looks. Specifically, how their face looks in it. It must be some strange magic from the crystals reacting to River Person singing again.

And incidentally.

“Tra lalala la!” Aofil sings out to finish off with River Person.

They do it...alone...though.

The wet tips of their ears flick droplets that force Asriel and Chara back to reality as Aofil look back and forth between them. “You missed the cue,” they tease, but get nothing in return. Chara and Asriel look through Aofil as if they were invisible. Like how they look past their own reflection in the water to find the deeper stars.

Still nothing.

“Hello?”

Still nothing.

“Frisk?” Aofil tries to see if perhaps they have any idea what this is about, but all they get back is an equally confused shake of their brown head. Aofil’s brow furrows, and they reach out for Asriel, who finally reacts. He catches Aofil by the wrist, but lets go of it almost immediately as if scolded. Aofil could almost swear that their arm turned lighter when he let go it, but the change in hue from the crystals has everything turning lighter, really.

“W...what happened?” they ask their stunned brother. “And you?” they also shoot over to their twin. “Did you see something scary?” Aofil leans in closer to Chara. “Like how dad reacted when mom showed that snail cage for him?”

“N-no,” Asriel answers with his usual chuckle. The slight stutter isn’t usual though. Mostly it is when he’s worried about his magic, but with how he baked the snail pie earlier today, how could he still be? It was awesome! And delicious! “Chara and I...we...”

“We just have another gift for you, Frisk,” Chara continues while scratching the back of their head.

“And you too, Aofil,” Asriel adds.

Almost reluctantly.

Aofil’s head cocks to the side, over to Frisk, who mirrors the quirk. Their tail come up behind them almost like a question mark. “For me too?” Aofil doesn’t understand why for them too. It’s Frisk birthday, so why is Aofil getting a present? They and Frisk haven’t planned anything for Chara and Asriel.

“T-that’s for later though,” says Asriel with his stutter just slightly audible. “For now, let’s continue trying to find ‘The Snail’ for mom!”

A present can’t be a bad thing, and perhaps Aofil said something that almost ruined the surprise. They shouldn’t think about it more so that they don’t spoil it for themselves.

Don’t you agree, strange reflection in the water?

It nods as Aofil does, with the same bright cheeks and the same hair as they have. Same eyes with the same different color due to the crystals now having turned into an almost oppressive purple. The same purple that you get after having stared too long at something bright. Not as purple as Royal Purple though, because that color is the most purple!

Despite all of the familiar similarities, Aofil’s reflection is still more different than it is similar. It’s not like any monster Aofil’s ever seen before! It must have been another one that River Person’s ferried across this river. It’s a much older monster, lacking any fur, and almost as white as Asriel is. The blossoms on its cheeks is the only thing giving its face any color outside its eyes. Some of Aofil’s aura must be mixing in with the echoes of this older monster from the crystals. Mom and dad’s said before that no other monster have ever had cheeks like Chara and Aofil, so Aofil’s aura reacting to the crystals must be why the monster in the water has theirs too.

This is much more interesting than looking for stars!

“Who do you see?” they ask to their surrounding siblings. “The crystals are giving me another reflection than my own.”

“You too?” Frisk gasps. “I thought it was just me.”

Aofil gasps too. “And you, Chara?” They bump into their twin’s shoulder to try and assert what kind of monster is in their reflection. It’s too faint to see, unfortunately. “Aww, shucks.” It’s almost as if Chara doesn’t have one at all!

Maybe that’s why they were afraid before.

Or maybe Aofil can’t see their siblings’ reflections as clearly.

“Can you tell me what yours look like, Chara?”

“It’s...me.”

Nah, that can’t be true. Chara’s lying, and Aofil’s pretty sure why. “You got an ugly one, didn’t you?” They lift up their ear’s twin carefully. “Does it have the blossoming cheeks on its butt instead?” 

With a losing pout, Chara snags their ear back to themselves with a tug of their head away from their teasing twin. They glare back at Aofil, who pushes both their hands against their mouth as to not burst into laughter.

“Mine has no fur on it,” Frisk explains as they lean closer to the others so that their reflection follows along. “Look,” they say before opening their mouth and turning to the side. “It has no muzzle as well!”

“Mine neither!” Aofil demonstrates by swinging their head around. The hair on their reflection is lifted up by the motion, and Frisk makes a startling discovery.

“The ears!” They snap their head down to their own reflection, and part away the hair over their own hanging ear. “My ears too. They’re gone!”

Oh what terrible fate! What woe and horror! This birthday started off so well and so wholesome has turned bitter and sour like those berries in dad’s garden that weren’t really edible, but the kids only found that out after the first handful. Now though? With having seen a reflection of themselves without their soft ears and muzzle? How could this reflection ever play ‘Snoot and Hoot’?

Frisk shakes their head hard and leans away from the boat’s edge while their hands wave back and forth to try and shoo the reflection away. They shiver as they sit down in the middle of the wooden seat.

“You others should also sit down again,” advises Toriel while motioning softly towards the bright end of the long tunnel. “We’re soon there now.”

Asriel drums his claws on the rim of the boat. His eyes dart around in the water. Up and down. Side to side. Where? Where? Where! He’s gotta find ‘The Snail’ before they land! He promised mom. He promised River Person he’d find one for them too, and-

“Asriel,” Toriel addresses directly, and rather sternly, while still being soft towards him. It’s important that he listens, but he has to choose that by himself. Toriel can only ask, she’d never demand from her children.

He looks back at his mom with eyes beginning to quiver. “B-but...”

“You’ll get another chance on the way back, my child,” Toriel promises with a gentle smile. “The crystals will be here for you still.”

Asriel casts a glance towards Aofil.

“Asriel,” Toriel says again, this time more understanding. Just as sternly though, but she knows why Asriel’s being worried.

It’s the same one starting to grow on Frisk’s face as they slowly close and open their hands in rhythm with their breathing. Their claws barely touch the fur on their palm before their hands open up again. Their tail curls behind them, and the feeling has them straightening their back.

“Frisk?” Asgore places his large, white hand on his child’s small, brown shoulder. This feeling they don’t flinch at, however. “It is fine. You do not have to worry. We’ll be at the Barrier soon. Just a bit more for your biggest birthday present.” 

Aofil looks over to Chara with a shrug. While the water’s turned almost completely turquoise from the Barrier’s overbearing white light, the mood’s suddenly turned much darker. Asriel’s looking worryingly at Aofil, Frisk seems to be afraid of their own hands, and even Chara’s cheeks seem fainter, now that Aofil thinks about it. “W-why are you guys so gloomy?” They try and make eye contact with their siblings, but they catch none. “W-what’s happening?” To their immense relief they manage to catch their mom and dad’s eyes, which are ever so soft and caring.

“We had a lot of walking to do,” Toriel explains after coaxing Aofil up on her lap. She’s almost whispering it to them, as if it’s a secret. “They’re all a bit tired, that’s all.”

“You got yourself a ride all the way to the boat, didn’t you?” With his gentle thumb, Asgore drags Aofil’s fringe to the side away from their eyes. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “They’ll all cheer up when they see the cake we brought with us.”

Aofil looks over their dad’s shoulder to the cake box adorned with spiders and webs. It’s tall profile is being held down by a pair of small, red tridents. Dad’s tridents. Chara and Aofil’s daggers weren’t sharp enough to stick properly into the boat’s wood, so he had to do it on his own. Maybe it was a good thing since Chara’s so tired now. They might even have fallen asleep if they’d have to keep their magic up for the entire boat trip too.

With a small bounce with her leg, Toriel coaxes Aofil off her leg. “Sit back down with your siblings now, my child.” She gives them a small push with her palms against their back, and give their tail a playful flick as they carefully walk over to where their siblings are sitting. 

Frisk looks at Aofil deep in their eyes as they sit down. “Tired?” Aofil asks with a small tilt of their head. “Don’t fall asleep before you have your cake.” They then turn over to Asriel and Chara leaning onto each other’s heads. “And you too!” Aofil scolds chillingly. “Maybe we should all dip our faces into the water when the boat docks so that we’re fully awake for the last part of our birthday trip?”

...Not even that cheered them up?

The boat rocks to a halt, shifting the ears of all six Boss Monsters. “Tra la la lala. We’re here,” River Person informs gladly. Their hood turns for the second time. “Happy birthday, Frisk. Tralalalalala.”

That at least got a bit of a smile from Frisk. 

Now, time to debark back onto dry land and to the path leading up from the river to the Barrier.

The path is bright.

Really bright.

Really, really bright.

Whiter than Asriel, Toriel, and Asgore combined. It has the entire Boss Monster family squinting as they one by one step off the boat onto the bridge waiting at the start of the snaking path leading up towards the Barrier. The boat rocks as each monster debarks, but River Person stays completely still throughout.

“Welcome to the Barrier, your majesssstiessss,” a blue snake monsters wishes well with a bow of its hissing head. “We’ve finissshed the trek now. I wissssh you well on your picnic.” It then slithers into the boat with an ungraceful thud, which prompts River Person to continue further into the river tunnel. Their hum fades like the wake following along, leaving only a quiet water remaining.

Frisk takes Aofil’s hand in theirs, holding them before they can follow the rest of their family off the bridge and onto land. “I just want to say thank you, Aofil. Just between the two of us now that I can remember it.” They scratch their cheek while scoffing a bit embarrassingly to the side. “I...I kinda dipped my nose a bit too much into that strange reflection.” They say it almost guiltily, as if screaming out in the middle of a theater production. They’re supposed to be the main character of this charade, but they’re the first one to speak up against the immersion. “Woke me up a bit, if you know what I mean?”

Hopefully Aofil can look past that and still go along this last stretch. They’d notice either way, and it’s probably for the better to come clean and speak up that the brainwashing has faded, as Aofil called it before it all started. The word has taken root inside Frisk a bit, so it’s for the best if they admit it before it begins festering.

Aofil does know. They’ve known it ever since Frisk lifted their head up and stared at their hands like they weren’t their own.

No need to feel ashamed though, Aofil’s accidentally breathed in with their nose underwater too. It feels really strange, and even worse if the sneeze doesn’t want to go off!

“So...um...thanks for keeping your promise, but you don’t have to keep it any longer. I think it’s better that way, because to be honest,” the second disarming scoff is more reserved and slightly terrified, “I feel a bit uneasy that I don’t know fully that you also know.” Frisk blinks once slowly while they try to exhale their building worry. They’re just rattling themselves up though with this. Once Aofil shows their humanity too it should be fine. “So if you could just tell me that you know then we can enjoy the cake without worrying if the other human isn’t coming back. Please?”

“I know,” Aofil answers with a wide smile pushing up their rounded cheeks.

“Alright.” Frisk sighs in relief. They can feel their body straighten on its own. The worry has been lifted off them. “Good.”

“Know what, though?”

Don’t put the weight back down again. “Alright, funny,” Frisk lies through a forced smile. “Just stop, please. I’m serious about beginning to feel a bit queasy.”

What is it that’s funny? Aofil’s doesn’t know what they’re supposed to know. “What do you mean?”

The forced smile drains away from Frisk’s face.

“Alright!” says Asgore through a small grunt as he lifts up the cake box into his arm. “You kids all seem a bit tired, so why don’t you hop on my shoulders? Toriel, can you take one in your arm?”

“I could take the cake instead,” she offers with a confident smirk as she rolls up her sleeves. She moves her basket up to the bend of her arm, and takes the cake box in both her hands off of Asgore’s. “We want it to still be in the box and not eaten on the way up, won’t we?”

Asgore has no idea what she’s inferring by that.

Nope.

Not at all.

Not a single idea.

God, the cake smells so good though.

Just a bit of a climb left before he can taste it now.

Just...a...bit.

Asgore looks up towards the barrier with squinting eyes.

Just a bit of a climb for this just a bit tall and kingly monster.

After a steadying breath through his nose, Asgore reaches down with his arm and shoulder to pick up his children. Asriel and Chara goes on his right shoulder and…

Aofil and Frisk?

Where did they go? They were just around a second or so ago. No long shadows from up the stairs either, so they haven’t begun on their own already. “Did you see the other two?” Asgore asks his wife, who turns around on the first step leading up to the Barrier. “They’re not with you?”

Toriel shakes her head. “They’re not with you?” she repeats with a piqued crescendo after having blinked hard twice.

“Frisk?” Asgore shouts as he turns around to look for them. “Aofil?”

His voice echoes throughout the vast cavern and into the river tunnel. At its mouth, behind a boulder, Frisk is collecting their breath as they force Aofil to sit down next to them. They can’t do this in front of the...family...it’s too much on Frisk. How will the illusion react if its creator has woken up from it? Frisk needs an anchor now, and only Aofil can be it.

Please, please be it!

“Can’t you just ask me on the way up?” Aofil whispers while they try to peek their head out from behind the large rock Frisk dragged them behind. Frisk pulls them back behind it via their horns before their muzzle shows itself. They press both their brown hands hard on the sides of Aofil’s beige muzzle to hold their head still while they look even harder into their confused eyes. 

“Why don’t you know, Aofil?”

“Know what?” Aofil’s confused. It hurts. Why is Frisk acting like this? “About the present Asriel and Chara have? I don’t know about that. I promise. Let my cheeks go. You’re hurting me.”

Frisk’s eyes sink into shadows, and their hands fall from Aofil’s cheeks, slamming against the wall behind them. Their back follows along with a painful thud, and they look down while their mouth begins quivering. “You can drop the facade,” they plead. “Please, I need to talk to you.”

“You can talk to me, Frisk.”

“The real you.”

“W-w-what do you mean?”

“DROP IT!”

Aofil lands hard on their behind as Frisk takes a harsh step forward with their fist balled down their sides and their gnarl thrown against their sibling. “I’m serious!” Frisk snaps while slashing the air between them and Aofil. “I can’t be alone in knowing! You have to know too! It’s...” They turn their head hurriedly from side to side as their breathing quickens. “That’s why I brought you with me, Aofil. You’re supposed to wake me up from this, not the reverse. I...”

“B-b-but it was dad that suggested that we’d go to the Barri-”

“No!” Frisk cries out as they grab the collar of Aofil’s yellow and purple collar. “Into Endogeny! I thought you’d be the one to realize first.” They swallow hard as they see no change in the childish glint of confusion and fear in Aofil’s quivering eyes. “This isn’t real, Aofil! We’re in Endogeny. We’re in an amalgamate! Asriel and Chara are our human souls. We saw our human bodies in the reflections in the water. Without you also knowing this will go from a dream to a nightmare. What if...”

Not...real…

What is…

What is Frisk talking about?

How tired are they, really?

“What if we can’t leave?” Drained by the realization surging through them like a swelling injury, Frisk’s hands slip from their sibling’s neck. “What if our bodies...”

Frisk isn’t feeling well. Aofil needs help. “Mom!” they shout as they crawl out from behind the boulder and into the sight of their parents. “Dad!” No secret is big enough for Frisk to act this way. For them to drag Aofil away by their hand and scream in their face. It’s their birthday! Why are they so scary?

“No!” Frisk tries to throw Aofil behind the rock again, but they lack the strength. “Quiet! I don’t want to look at them if you’re still thinking they are your parents!”

“Frisk isn’t feeling well!”

“Stop!”

But before Frisk can muster up another try, they’re picked up by Toriel. Frisk meets her eyes, and begins struggling as they fight off the soothing warmth and motherly worried radiating from the soft, understanding eyes. “Calm down, my child.” The voice is… “What’s the matter?”

“I know,” Frisk weeps while pushing Toriel away from them. “I know, and I’m scared that Aofil doesn’t.” Their head snaps over to Asriel sitting on Asgore’s shoulder. “Why doesn’t Aofil know?”

Know what? What is happening? “Dad!” Aofil coughs as they run at him with their arms outstretched. “I’m afraid! What is happening with Frisk?” Asgore gently lifts them up as they lunge themselves into his large and secure hand. They burrow their face into his shirt as he cradles their legs with his large thumb. “This is their birthday...” they cry into his chest. Asgore looks over to Asriel, who sighs deeply.

“I don’t know,” falls out of his tired mouth.

“What do you mean you don’t know!” Frisk spits while almost falling out of Toriel’s hands as they push off to get closer to the lying soul. “Why is Aofil still believing this? Talk to them!”

“I’m not believing it,” Asriel answers solemnly. “But they are.”

Believe what? What is there to believe? Aofil doesn’t understand! They choke a sob, and wring their father’s shirt closer to them. “I don’t understand,” they cough into the cloth, staining it with their scared tears. “Asriel’s my brother, not my soul.”

“He’s not!” Frisk voice cracks into a bleat. They try to cough it away, but to no avail. “Aofil! You’re a human! You’re not a Boss Monster! You’re an adult human! This is all an illusion!”

“An illusion you wished for,” Chara reminds. “And one Aofil promised they’d keep for one day.”

Asriel nods in acknowledgment. “At least it sounds like they got through to you, Frisk. It’s easy to get stuck in a fantasy like this, and it’s scary when it happens.”

“If you’re only pretending just to prove your point, Aofil, then-”

“They’re not,” Asriel interrupts. “That much I know.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Frisk’s tail whips angrily, and their face bends painfully as they feel the tip at the end of its length brush against Toriel’s head without a reaction from her. The same blank stare is cast from Asgore as well. They’re just statues now. Their illusion is shattered. “You must’ve felt when I realized, right?” Frisk asks Chara without addressing their pretended name.

“I did, and I thought Aofil did too.” Chara and Asriel trade the same look they did while leaning over the boat’s edge. “But apparently not.”

Frisk’s heavy breathing heaves their small body up and down in Toriel’s caress. Their eyes dart from Chara, to Asriel, and finally onto Aofil, who looks away as if they’re about to be attacked. They again burrow deeper into Asgore as much as they can for defense.

Dammit all!

“I know,” Chara acknowledges with a slow shrug. “Maybe we should cut this short, Frisk? Or do you think you can...Well, I know that you can’t do the rest of the day now.”

“I’m not sure about Aofil either,” Asriel adds while motioning down to a sobbing child Boss Monster Aofil. “I don’t know if I can keep my promise about not having them remember if they become more adamant about being a monster child as a reaction to this.”

With a final push, Frisk jumps down from Toriel, who’s now stopped moving entirely. They don’t look back at her. It’s all gone too far now. “The Barrier is the metaphorical exit?” they shoot over to Chara and Asriel while blinding themselves by the Barrier’s light so that they don’t see Asgore either.

“Yup,” Chara answers after they and their ears have landed firmly back down on the ground. Asriel lands next to them, and his ears a brief moment later. The two grab Aofil by their sweater and jeans, and lifts them down despite their desperate grip to hold onto their father’s robe.

“Dad!” Aofil yells in confused panic, but he doesn’t react. “Mom!” they try desperately for a second time, but with no reaction from her as well. Stunned, they can only stare at their frozen parents as they’re dragged up the stairs by their twin and by their brother.

What...is...happening?

They push their ears over their eyes.

“It’s all a dream. It’s all a dream. It’s all a dream. It’s all a dream. It’s all a dream.“

“Will Aofil be fine once they’re back in reality?” Frisk shoots down the stairs over their shoulder. The purple from the brightness covers the forms of Toriel and Asgore at the bottom of the stairs.

This time though they’re leaving those distorted memories behind. They have someone else to save this time around.

Frisk curses themselves.

But it is not enough.

“Hey,” they say. They won’t mention the name. Their soul will know that they’re talking to it.

“Yes?” Chara answers.

“I’m gonna say this out loud so that Aofil and or their soul might remember it too, but if there’s any memory that slips by you two souls, then have it be this feeling, alright?” Frisk wants to raise their voice as a threat, but it would just be waste of energy at this point. They’re not talking to actual beings, after all. Save the pretend breath for reality.

“Did you enjoy it while it was still real to you?” Asriel pries. “For Aofil’s sake?”

Frisk nods, to Aofil. “Thanks for keeping your promise, even if you’re keeping it too much right about now.”

“Thanks,” Asriel answers for Aofil.

“Don’t think about it.”

“That’s the plan.”

The Barrier begins peeking over the end of the stairs. It is just as Frisk remembers it.

That doesn’t bring them any comfort though.

“Alright,” they address behind them as Chara and Asriel arrive with Aofil in sobbing tow. “Should we just go through?” They can see their human reflection ask the same question in the reflection of the Barrier. They also see the reflection of Aofil sobbing as a human with their legs curled up to them. 

It’s...strange. 

Asriel and Chara aren’t in the reflection.

It’s just Frisk and Aofil.

Which is good.

“Just out of curiosity,” Frisk asks into the Barrier. They look up to their human face, but it looks up as well. “What would’ve the cake tasted like?”

As if dragged by invisible ghosts, Aofil glides closer to Frisk inside the Barrier. They bleat as their sweater is released by the invisible hands. They land on their tail as a Boss Monster, and as a human.

Stranger still.

“Chocolate,” Chara answers, which prompts a rapid turn of Frisk’s head. “Just kidding.”

Frisk won’t acknowledge that. They only shrug with their Boss Monster shoulders at their own reflection, who shrugs back with its human shoulders.

“You were right about a second thing too, Aofil.”

They grab Aofil by the collar. 

“It’s really uncomfortable when your soul is talking back at you.”

And step into their human self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There won't be a chapter next week due to University stuff that'll keep me away from being able to write.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want, the One Falls anthology has a channel in the [Fanfic Paradise Discord server.](https://discord.gg/sXVXy7w) I frequent it daily, so if you fancy, feel free to join. Be seeing you there!


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